The days that must happen
by Heero de Fanel
Summary: Post All Good Things and CSII's ending, pre-CSIII. The story of Rean, Alisa, and what exactly happens when an archer and a Chevalier go on an Erebonian road trip.
1. The days that must happen

**The days that must happen**

More Rean/Alisa fluff? More Rean/Alisa fluff, with a bookworm chaser. Takes place in the same universe as most of my other fics; in particular, this is after All Good Things/CSII's ending, and before CSIII, meaning **SPOILERS** abound (along with copious amounts of what-ifs?) Bit of a tense/style change here, so let's see if it works, shall we?

* * *

She swallows hard immediately upon being greeted by Rean's haggard face in the viewscreen in front of her, because while she knows that his job is not an easy one she also knows that she's never seen him look _this_ tired before.

Alisa sees dark circles around his eyes and a sickly tinge to his already pale complexion, signs and cues that scream overwork, and scarce seconds after it enters her mind the question is on the tip of her tongue –

But Rean beats her to the punch, and it doesn't take her too long to realize that she probably doesn't look much better.

"Are you all right?!" Rean asks in lieu of a hello, his tired slouch straightening immediately upon seeing the Reinford heiress looking dead on her feet, and Alisa can only muster up a wan chuckle in reply.

"Hi to you too, Rean."

"What happened?" he continues, his voice dropping into the 'worried sick' register that never fails to make her heart clench, and when his brow furrows her fingertips twitch in reflex, wanting so badly to reach out and touch.

"Nothing happened," she finally assures him, smiling at him as best she can. "Nothing big, anyway."

"… Huh."

"Hey," she frowns, a little of her old fire coming to the forefront, and she's satisfied when he looks just the slightest bit chastened. "It's really nothing huge. Some suppliers are running late, a couple of prototypes are behind schedule, a few divisions are in danger of falling behind because of production snafus – "

He smirks in spite of himself. "That's a great word, by the way."

"And we're kind of rushed with trade shows coming up to show off our newest stuff, so there's that too," she finished, magnanimously ignoring his interruption. Wiseass.

"Nothing big, you said?"

"Nope. Just… a few medium sized things."

"That all happened to come down on you at once."

"Standard operating procedure here, don't you know."

His gaze softens. "And you're sure you're not overdoing it?" he says, and if that isn't a Goddess given segue she doesn't know what is.

"I could say the same thing to you, Rean," and when he opens his mouth and shuts it almost immediately with an embarrassed look Alisa can't help but feel vindicated.

He sighs, never having been able to lie to her. "It comes with the territory. We've definitely been really busy ourselves, that's for sure."

"So I've read. I'm guessing that dealing with Crossbell isn't as rosy as the media makes it sound?"

Rean clenches his jaw and shifts uncomfortably, with no trace of the unshakeable Ashen Chevalier to be seen. "Crossbell is Crossbell."

There are lines. She reads between them.

"At least everyone's still in one piece," Alisa says at last, mercifully deciding not to press at the moment. "Millium and Altina are doing okay?" she asks, and the mention of his two smaller comrades is enough to coax out a small smile.

"All things considered, they're doing great. I mean, Millium is Millium and Altina is Altina so there's that, but when all's said and done they work startlingly well together."

She's about to ask more, but a loud yawn keeps her from doing anything but advertising her exhaustion to the world, and when she sees the worried expression back on Rean's face her hand reaches out and ghosts over the screen, trying to reassure him as best she can.

"I know, I know. You don't have to tell me, but my mother's already taking on so much as is, and besides; most of these issues are short term, so I should have them sorted out pretty soon. It's not like I can do much else. Come on, how bad would it look if the next Reinford head decided to drop everything and go on vacation?"

She laughs and doesn't notice the dark haired man refrain from joining her, his brow knitting in thought.

"... Would you want to find out?"

The laughter abruptly dies as the blonde's jaw drops, and all that's missing to complete the scene is the piercing screech of a record needle.

"W-What?"

Rean shrugs, looking like he's kind of regretting opening his big mouth while fully understanding that he's all in now and it's too late to fold (and so long as gambling analogies exist in Class VII's vocabulary, Crow Armbrust will never truly die).

"See… here's the thing. You could use a break, I could use a break, Claire and Lechter have both been pushing me to take time off when I can, so… why not kill two birds with one stone?"

Her refusal is seconds away from escaping, it really is. There's so much to do in the next few days, it's ridiculously short notice, how does anyone even take a vacation in this company anyway –

"Sharon, any thoughts?"

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, Master Rean. Doesn't it, my lady?" and Alisa swallows a scream as she wheels around and sees her perpetually smiling maid giving them a curtsy because _where the hell did she even come from?!_

"D-Don't do that!" she storms, trying and failing to contain an embarrassed blush. "And what do you mean it sounds like a wonderful idea? Mother would have my head if I left everything unfinished, and she'd be absolutely right to!"

Sharon simply chuckles and pats her shoulder, and Alisa isn't sure how one gesture can be a perfect blend of genuinely comforting and patronizingly infuriating all at once. "Now now. No one's suggesting that, least of all Master Rean. Aren't I correct?"

"Absolutely," and she takes a little pride in the fact that even after all this time, her flat eyed stare still manages to intimidate him at least a little. "I-I'm not saying I'd show up there tomorrow, Alisa. I've still got duties to finish off over here, just like you do, and after we're both done… well, I think a little bit of R&R would do us both a whole world of good, wouldn't you say?

The 'no' was still notched and ready to be loosed, even in the face of her weakening resolve, and her brain was struggling to come up with valid reasons as to why this was a mistake waiting to happen…

And when he smiles at her, bright, hopeful and almost shy, the 'yes' spills forth at once, much to Sharon's satisfaction and her own shock and surprise. Still, what's done is done, and she when finds herself doing rapid math in her head trying to ensure how she can get everything done in the time she has, she knows she's too far gone to even think about looking back.

(How unfair is it that he can still make her heart skip a beat at this point, anyway?)

* * *

It takes some sleepless nights, some angry phone calls, and so much coffee and tea that Machias and Emma would bow their heads in reverence, but when the time of reckoning comes she stands before Irina Reinford, utterly worn down and triumphant all at once.

"Hmm," the older blonde intones, her tone as professionally cool as it always was, "I have to say I'm impressed. Every duty asked of you was completed without flaw, and all without requiring any assistance from my end."

A snide comment rises to the surface and is swallowed immediately, because Alisa knows in her heart that this is as close to her mother can get to 'well done', as close as she can get to heartfelt, genuine praise; though she's come to understand the woman in front of her over time, she also understands that theirs will never be a relationship where compliments and encouragement will flow freely with success.

Irina shows her faith in her daughter through setting standards that few would even dare to try and meet, because she fully believes Alisa to be capable of meeting and exceeding them, no matter how difficult they are. She supposes it's heartwarming, in a way. It's not as if heartwarming and irritating are mutually exclusive in the grand scheme of things.

"Thank you," Alisa says stiffly, willing away the histrionics that plagued her what felt like a lifetime ago. "I'll admit it was difficult, but all projects are moving according to schedule."

"Good. See that it stays that way. It would be a shame if all your effort came undone."

A pause, and Irina looks down at the sheaf of papers in front of her, clearly believing the conversation to be over.

No time like the present. "I'm not sure if you saw, but I submitted – "

Her mother waves a hand, seemingly unconcerned. "Already approved."

She stops short, somewhat taken aback. "I – wait, what?"

"Did you misunderstand?" she replies smoothly, gaze flicking upward to regard her daughter with a little impatience now. "All your tasks have been completed and there's nothing pressing that requires your attention, so I hardly see a problem with some time off. Also…"

Her ice blue eyes soften ever so slightly, taking the younger Reinford by surprise. "You've been working very hard ever since Thors, Alisa. A break is hardly unwarranted. Remember what happens when an orbal engine is under load for too long without a stoppage?" and Alisa bites her tongue again because there's something disturbingly appropriate about her mother using basic engineering principles to illustrate why she's deserving of a vacation.

Still, the sentiment is heard loud and clear, and Alisa finds herself smiling warmly.

"I do remember. Thank you, Mother."

Irina looks down again, idly toying with a gold and silver pen. "Don't let your performance slip when you return."

An indignant sniff. "As if I ever would. Is there anything else?"

She rests an index finger on her lips, pondering. "Enjoy yourself. Try to learn something new. Keep bedroom activities to a minimum."

(Outside the room, Sharon bites her cheek to keep from laughing).

"A-And why exactly is that last one so different from the others?!" Alisa rages, her face turning a bright red, and unbeknownst to her the tiniest smile finds its way onto Irina's face.

* * *

Alisa stands in Roer's railway station, large bag at her feet, her gaze swinging to and fro as she looks for the first train of the day. It was early enough that the station was virtually deserted, which is exactly what they both wanted for their departure.

She had been part of Roer's landscape from the day she was born. Seeing her around town was nothing special for the citizens, who only ever saw her as one of their own; someone to talk with and laugh with, her unique status notwithstanding.

Rean, however, was an entirely different animal. There wasn't a citizen in Erebonia who hadn't heard of the Ashen Chevalier, so she wondered how he planned to travel incognito as he intended…

 _"Well, if people are going to recognize me anyway, I could just come by and pick you up in Valimar."_ he had said with a laugh.

She was pretty sure he was joking.

Kind of.

A high pitched whistle breaking the silence made her look up, and when she saw the bright red train slowly pulling into the station she took a single sharp breath, knowing who was going to be on it.

The few passengers began to disembark, most of them looking drawn and haggard, and in spite of the large, hideous hat and ridiculously oversized sunglasses he's wearing (because _come on_ ) she's able to recognize him immediately in the throng.

He's always carried himself with confidence and poise, and that hasn't changed one bit. No matter how what life has thrown his way since leaving Thors, it hadn't been nearly enough to bow his head or break his spirit, and for that she was glad.

Of course, the familiar orbal bike he was wheeling along behind him was also a pretty big clue. Did he store that in the cargo hold for the whole trip?

It doesn't take him long to spot her, and the grin that slowly spreads across his face is enough to reinforce that yes, every once in a while, impulse decisions are good things indeed.

He stops in front of her and her heart is doing that racing thing again, much to her chagrin.

"Hey."

"Hi."

A year's gone by since they parted, they're finally face to face without the use of a video screen, and in an irritating return to form when it comes to dealing with Rean, Alisa has no idea what to do.

Her brain wants to be safe, to ask how his trip was, if he slept okay, or something equally as mundane and adult-like –

"So, Alisa – "

Her heart, however, wants to be brave, and bravery wins out when she stands on tiptoes to kiss him, warm and sweet and welcoming, and seriously; impulse decisions were _fantastic_ , weren't they?

* * *

Right as they board, her gaze drops to his feet and casually tells him that his bootlaces are untied. When his brow crinkles in confusion and he looks down, her hands flash out to remove the items that he generously calls a disguise and adroitly toss them into the trash bin by the door.

"H-Hey!"

"I'll reimburse you the 20 mira. I'm not crossing the Roer border with someone that looks like they belong on some kind of watch list."

* * *

It hadn't taken her long to convince him that his attempt at subterfuge was really unnecessary; he'd have probably still been recognized if he hadn't been on a train that had been filled with passengers that could have doubled as zombies, and after a second or two of staring he concedes with a sigh and a smile.

"All right," she says as the train prepares to set off, "I probably should have asked this before anything else, but… what exactly are we doing?"

His answer comes in the form of another grin and a folded sheet of paper he removes from his pocket. "Good question. Let me consult our itinerary…"

Alisa barely swallows a laugh. "We have an _itinerary?_ Are we on a vacation or a field study?"

"You don't hang out with Towa, Emma, and Machias and not come away with an appreciation for the finer points of organization, Alisa," he quips, unfolding it and pretending to scrutinize it closely, much to her amusement. "But I've made some calls and sent some letters, and it looks like in the time we have we can easily head up to Nord, then train back down to Heimdallr, stop off in Trista before going to Bareahard, and we end at Legram before going back to Roer."

He tries and fails to keep the joyful anticipation out of his voice, and by the end of it memories are swirling around in her head like a tempest and her glistening eyes make her blink hard, once, twice, three times.

Alisa doesn't care in the slightest. The time when embarrassment and honest emotion went hand in hand had long since passed, and she was better for it.

He snaps his fingers, looking a little sheepish. "Oh, we should probably stop by Celdic too, but it'll be easier to do it on our way back so it shouldn't be a problem – "

She shuts him up by kissing him again, and she's got a feeling that this is going to be the trip's recurring theme – making up for lost time and all that.

* * *

In between catching up with all the everyday things that they've been missing they play quick rounds of Blade II, and while it's not the broken mess of a game that the first release was it's still far more dependent on luck than she would like. Not even finishing with an even number of wins and losses is enough to curb her annoyance at some truly ghastly draws, and the amused expression on Rean's face as she glares at the deck says it all.

"So, I can probably guess what your next project is gonna be, huh?"

"Please," she sniffs with (mock?) disdain, tossing her hair in a dismissive manner that would have made Ferris nod in proud approval. "I'm way too busy with other things to even think about dabbling in children's card games."

Rean makes a tsk noise. "No Blade III, huh? That's kind of a shame. It's a great way to kill time, and you've got one of Erebonia's best players on your payroll, so…"

She blinks. "Wait, we do?"

* * *

Her eyes open briefly halfway through her nap, and they flutter shut again when she feels Rean slumped against her, his breaths quiet and peaceful, and Alisa wonders how long it's been since either one of them have slept like this.

It's not the first time she's woken up next to him, but it's the thought that it won't be the last that sends her back into a restful slumber, a content smile on her lips.

* * *

Disembarking at Zender Gate is a much quicker affair than boarding at Roer, even taking into account Rean having to wheel the orbal bike out of the train's cargo hold and into one of the outpost's many storage rooms.

"They really don't mind, huh?" the archer asks, watching as her boyfriend carefully places a tarp over the beautiful machine, and Rean looks over and gives a quick shake of his head.

"Not really. From what I understand this particular storage room is so rarely used that it's got plenty of excess space. It's not like we're keeping it here long term, anyway. We'll be back here before they know it!"

She catches the wistful expression on his face as they close the lock the door, and she doesn't bother to hide her smirk. "Missing it already?"

"It's grown on me a lot," Rean freely admits, shrugging a little. "But there's no denying that it's not meant for the grasslands of Nord – I don't think anything's going to replace horses for that sort of thing."

Alisa hums in agreement before they pick up their bags and start to make their way out of the massive structure, exchanging friendly greetings with the staff on duty there all the while. "Speaking of which, we're probably going to need to get mounts from somewhere if we want to make it to the settlement on time. Do we have to talk to someone, or…?"

The main door opens, and they both raise their hands to offset the blast of fading sunlight, the swordsman squinting and looking around before he spies his quarry, three horses standing beside him.

"Nope, I think he's got us covered," Rean says warmly as he waves in greeting, and seconds later Alisa gives a delighted cry and joins right in.

At the bottom of the staircase, a smiling Gaius raises a hand and waves right back.

* * *

The next few hours fly by in a frenetic jumble.

After the initial greeting (she wasn't sure if a handshake or an embrace was more appropriate; Rean hadn't been shy on settling on the latter, and who was she to turn down a group hug?) the three of them had saddled their horses and set off toward the settlement, where they were met by the Worzel family and the rest of the settlers, all of whom were eager to lavish traditional Nord hospitality on their returning guests.

It was turning out to be quite the party, and Alisa and Rean were more than glad to catch up with everyone. It had been a year since the upheaval caused by the civil war had ended, and warms Alisa's heart to see the nomads doing so well after their lives had been uprooted so violently.

(The romantic in her immediately notices Toma and Sharl standing closer together than they had last year, and she makes a mental note to congratulate the both of them. Or tell them to get their acts together, whichever one was needed).

She was more than happy to pass on her grandfather's well-wishes to everyone there, of course; while Gwyn hadn't officially returned to Reinford in a permanent capacity, his continued presence in Roer had helped Alisa immensely during the early, stress-filled days of her current tenure.

That said, it was easy to tell that part of him missed Nord's wide open plains, and she honestly couldn't blame him. After living in a metropolis of steel and glass, a place like this, a place where you can stand anywhere and look into a horizon that stretched into eternity… a place like this might seem like paradise.

In between bites of delicious food and sips of delicious drinks, Lacan and Fatma cheerily admit that after everything had calmed down, life in Nord had pretty much returned to what it had been like before, aside from the very pleasant exception of having their eldest back on a more permanent basis.

Gaius can only chuckle at his siblings enthusiastically echoing that statement, and when Fatma casually says that it's been so nice to have all _five_ children around with a quick glance at Sharl that's about as subtle as a brick to the face, Alisa can only try and fail to choke back her own giggles at Toma's shock and the girl's blush.

As much as her unique childhood shaped her as a person, she can't help but wonder if she might have enjoyed having a big family just like this, full of love and laughter, and when she feels Rean's warm fingers sneakily slide through her own she decides that yes, she probably would have.

(She's smart enough to join in on the friendly teasing before she can do something stupid like think of the future and maybes).

* * *

It takes until the next day before Rean, Alisa, and Gaius can sequester themselves away in a tent to catch up properly.

They first talk of work, family, memories from Thors, but when Gaius takes a small sip from his milk tea and sets down his cup with a deliberate slowness everyone present understands the time for reminiscing is over.

"The war might be over and Nord at peace, but Erebonia herself is still in a state of flux," the lancer says mildly, almost like he's talking about how high Zeo can fly when he catches a particularly strong thermal.

Rean sets down his own mug, not bothering with any kind of token denial. "Very much so. Between those that disagree with Osborne's policies and the resistance cells in Crossbell, things haven't calmed down nearly as much as the media likes to claim."

"It's the same with us, honestly. Reinford's dealings have been… uh, let's just say that there are people in the Empire preparing for _something_ ," Alisa chimes in, her face solemn.

"Do you think there's a chance Nord will get drawn into whatever's brewing?" Gaius asks next, brow creasing in concern. Considering what his people had *just* had to recover from, Alisa can't blame him in the slightest.

The swordsman crosses his arms, considering. "I highly doubt it. Crossbell's more concerned with ending the occupation, and that's something that's got nothing to do with the Highlands. Same with the anti-Osborne factions at play – they've got no reason to commence hostilities against Nord."

The taller male nods, and they both see the naked relief in his eyes. "I see."

Before either of them can say anything, he's speaking again, this time with a hint of exasperated fondness in his tone. "And I take it that whatever happens, the both of you will be at the center of it all, trying to help as best you can."

It's a statement, not a question, and Rean can't quite hide the snicker it elicits. "Well, I don't have much of a choice. But even if I did, I'd still choose to be out there."

"As the next head of Reinford, I can't turn my back on all this either. I'd like to think I'll be working behind the scenes like my mother does, but knowing us…"

Gaius only chuckles at that, the sound warm and assuring. "I expected as much. Then let me reassure you both now; should you ever require my assistance in the future, my spear is yours. Just say the word."

Their reaction is immediate.

"But – "

"You – "

"I've said this before," the lancer continues, patient as always. "I was taught to use my weapon to defend my home and my family. Erebonia is no less my home than Nord, and you're all living proof that family doesn't end with blood."

No one says anything for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in, and the only sound heard within the tent comes from the swirling winds of Nord's endless blue skies.

At last, Rean exhales roughly and looks at Class VII's big brother, gratitude shining in his fuchsia eyes. "Thank you."

Alisa can only nod, not trusting herself to speak.

Gaius simply smiles his calm smile and picks up his tea again, almost maddeningly unruffled. "There's no need. Now, with the serious discussion out of the way… how has this trip of yours been going so far?"

* * *

Their overnight train ride back down to Heimdallr is both long and uneventful, and in between watching the scenery go by, napping, and snacking on the treats that Fatma had given them before they left, there isn't a whole lot to do.

Before they reach the city, they end up comparing notes on what they had gleaned from Machias and Elliot in the few letters that had been exchanged. The results don't exactly shock either one of them.

"So, Machias still spends his days agonizing over exam scores and Elliot's still the musical genius, huh?" Alisa notes rhetorically, looking more than a little amused.

"Yeah, but I can't say I expected much else. The path those two chose to follow was the most natural one for them, I feel… though I do find it kind of funny that they left Thors early only to hop right back into another school system."

"Well, Elliot's reached the point where he can't really go any farther as a performer without serious instruction, right? And Mr. Vice President probably can't go for too long without studying for a test of some kind because he'll go into withdrawal, so – "

Alisa wasn't sure how funny her last comment actually was, but when Rean starts laughing until he damn near cries all she can do is laugh right along with him, because she can't remember the last time either of them laughed like this and she thinks they deserve the chance to.

* * *

"Rean! Alisa!"

The sound of a familiar voice snaps them out of their sleep-induced haze, and when the blonde turns to find the source, she sees that _wow,_ Elliot can really rock a ponytail.

"Looking good, Elliot!" Rean greets, putting down his bags and embracing the musician just as he had done Gaius, leading to a startled chuckle as Elliot hugged back.

That left Alisa raising an amused eyebrow at the green haired young man in front of her, hand extended with a slightly uncertain expression on his face.

"It's good to see you again, Alisa. I hope that your trip down here was all right?"

She keeps staring.

"What? What is it?"

"Seriously, Machias?" Alisa laughs, ignoring the outreached palm and slipping her arms around his neck, and the slightly strangled noise he makes is enough to tell her that her fellow ranged specialist had changed very little in their time since Thors. "It's good to see you, too."

"… Yes. Well." He coughs uncomfortably before his gaze softens, his arms coming up to warmly return the gesture.

"Wow," Alisa breathes, stepping back and looking impressed. "For such a stick in the mud, you give pretty amazing hugs."

He sputters and stutters and it's every bit as magnificent as she remembers. "Y-You – "

"He does, doesn't he?" Rean chimes in, looking like he was remembering something quite fondly.

"Haha. My sis always said that he probably might. You know, kind of like a cat that's really grumpy at first until it knows you, but after that – "

"C-Could we **not**?!"

* * *

After dropping off their bags (and the bike) at Elliot's house, the two males take their leave and head off to their respective schools, though not without a promise to catch up at dinner. With Fiona currently out, that left them with more than a bit of time on their hands.

"What now?" Alisa asks from her comfortable vantage point on the couch, and Rean looks up from the map of Heimdallr that was currently spread on the table.

"Well," he begins, looking thoughtful. "We could use the time to catch up on sleep here – napping on the train wasn't the greatest rest we could have had."

She knew Rean better than that by now.

"Or…?"

He grins and starts folding up the map, his gaze locking with Alisa's own. "I don't know about you, but there's a lot of Heimdallr that I missed out on during our field study and I feel like making up for lost time. Feel like playing tourist for a few hours?"

Like she was going to say no to that.

* * *

It only seems fitting to start with Valflame Palace despite being a bit of a trek, and Alisa still can't help but be in awe of the massive structure even after everything that had gone on with the Infernal Castle. There was just so much history there, so much raw _presence._

(The fact the nearby food stalls were absolutely spectacular might have had something to do with it, too).

They wind up staying there for a little while; surprisingly, the draw of seeing the Ashen Chevalier in person is seemingly dwarfed by the draw of the Imperial palace, so Rean finds himself playing photographer to a lot of families who don't particularly care who he is so long as he can operate an orbal camera while they pose.

"Well," Alisa murmurs with a fond giggle, taking a bite of her ice cream as Rean playfully encourages a four year old to give a big smile, "at least this place isn't going to stroke his ego any."

* * *

They don't spend much time on Vainqueur Street or in the Garnier District; while neither person had anything against window shopping per se, it wasn't exactly a favored pastime, either – all apologies to Collette.

In contrast, they both love Mater Park and come to the conclusion that you could spend all day there just people watching without getting bored, and the highlight of Rean's morning is watching his girlfriend get into a spirited compare and contrast debate with a travelling engineer over the many accomplishments of Zeiss and Reinford.

(There's a moment where the sun angles just right and catches the gold of her hair and the fire in her eyes to utter perfection, and he really wishes that he had that camera back right about now).

* * *

Their stroll around the Ost District is brief and would have been equally as uneventful if not for a cat leisurely crossing the street in front of them before stopping, his feline gaze narrowing as he took in the visitors to his domain.

The eyes are probing but calm at the same time, and there's a wisdom deep within them that speaks of a long rule, a just rule, and who would have ever thought that such greatness could come on four paws?

Rean nods in deferential respect, as does Alisa. A moment later, Mr. Tiddles gives a friendly 'meow' and saunters off, his curiosity satisfied.

Silence reigns.

"… What just happened, Rean?"

"I don't know. But what I do know is that the Ost District's cats are in good hands," he answers, a quiet solemnity about him.

Alisa takes a moment to mull over what she just heard, and scrunches her nose when she draws the only conclusion she possibly can. "We're tired, aren't we."

"Yeah, I think so."

* * *

Dinner is an enthusiastic affair, and while neither General Craig nor Governor Regnitz can attend it hardly dims the occasion any.

Fiona is bustling around the kitchen, whistling as she works her own brand of magic, and as dishes virtually fly onto the table both Rean and Alisa are more than happy to listen to Elliot and Machias tell them what they've been up to since they parted.

Though there are distinct differences between a music academy, a political academy, and a military academy, there's still something comfortably nostalgic about hearing stories revolving around classes, teachers, and schedules. It was Thors and not Thors all at the same time, and though she regretted nothing about her decision it still fascinated Alisa to hear what might have been.

All that being said, she can't help but wince sympathetically when Machias gets to exams. Those still didn't sound fun, and it doesn't sound like life will get any easier when he graduates and tries to enter Heimdallr's political sphere proper. Same with Elliot; the transition to professional performer from a gifted amateur is a jarring one, even for one as talented as Class VII's violinist.

They're about halfway through dessert when Fiona sets down her fork and leans toward Rean, looking curious. "So, tell me then; are you two going to try and meet the rest of Class VII during this vacation of yours?"

Rean nods. "That's the plan, yeah. We've already seen Gaius – he says hello, by the way – and of course we have you two. After this comes Jusis in Bareahard – "

Machias sniffs disdainfully, making Elliot chuckle and Alisa roll her eyes with no small amount of exasperated affection.

"Anyway," Rean continues without breaking stride, though with a smile on his face all the while, "after that comes Legram and Laura. Unfortunately, that's the best I could do on short notice in terms of guaranteed visits; I'm going to try and reach Instructor Sara and Fie via radio or phone, but there's no guarantees that will work. I tried to get a sense of where Emma might be in my last letter, but I hadn't gotten a reply before I left, so…"

"Me neither," Alisa says, looking a little perturbed.

"Same here. I hope everything's all right!" Elliot chimes in, looking concerned for his fellow staff wielder.

Much to everyone's surprise, Machias shakes his head, his expression unusually calm. "I don't think you have anything to worry about, quite honestly."

Rean blinks, looking interested. "Wait, you've seen her recently?"

The former Class VII VP pushes his glasses up and rests his chin in his palm, contemplating, and Alisa sees a look in his eyes that she can't quite define – she's got a good guess, though.

"Not seen, no. We've been exchanging letters, however, much like the rest of you, and from what I understand she's been quite focused on training her powers even further. More to the point, she's apparently working on some kind of lead in regards to Vita and... something else. She didn't elaborate," he explains hastily upon seeing every gaze in the room turn toward him. "I got the impression that whatever it was, it was too new of a development to bear any fruit."

Well well. What have we here?

"What's that for?" Machias demands, and Alisa realizes too late that she's smirking without an ounce of shame.

"Oh, nothing. I just thought it was neat how she happened to share all that with you, that's all. It's way juicer than the replies I got."

The gunman sniffs imperiously. "I-I think you're reading too much into it! I'm sure everyone's received the same – "

Elliot's hand comes up, a little sheepish. "Uh… the last letter I got was mainly about our orbal staves and my music."

"She was only asking me how the company was doing and to please pass her regards to my mother and Sharon," Alisa adds, enjoying the slow blush that was working its way onto his face much more than she should have been.

"I got some more tidbits about Awakener lore along with the usual pleasantries, but nothing huge," Rean finishes, mindful not to say too much.

After all, that was Alisa's job.

"And here she told you a bunch of the personal stuff," Alisa teases as Machias' face grows more and more red. "Huh."

"Oh, I remember Emma now!" Fiona says, snapping her fingers. "She's the pretty brunette with the glasses, right?"

" _Very_ pretty," the archer agrees, twisting the knife without mercy. "Wouldn't you say, Machias?"

"You see, that's – I mean, from a purely objective standpoint I would certainly agree that she's very – you know what? I think I should go review more. Thank you for the meal, Fiona. Permission to use your study?" Machias requests with as much dignity as he can possibly muster even as his complexion starts to match the old Class VII uniform jacket.

Fiona waves at him with a smile, deciding to take pity on the beleaguered youth. "Oh, go right ahead."

"Actually," Elliot adds in, looking a little sympathetic but still greatly amused at the same time, "I should probably go over some pieces I've been composing for my practicals. Thanks for dinner, sis! It was amazing as always."

The older redhead blushes as Rean and Alisa join in in the praise, laughing all the while. "You're all far too kind, but there's no need for thanks! It's always a pleasure to cook for Elliot's friends, particularly ones that I haven't seen in quite some time. It's not like Elliot – or Machias, for that matter – have been bringing home classmates lately – "

"Sis!" Elliot protests, throwing up his hands. "It's not like I haven't made friends there, y'know! A lot of my classmates are actually from my old music school, remember? It's just we're all too busy with projects and performances to really hang out after the day ends, that's all."

She sighs, looking a little perturbed. "If you say so. I just don't like the idea of my little brother getting lonely…"

"I-I'm not!"

"They're so cute," Alisa snickers under her breath, more than content to watch the ongoing byplay. She's gratified when she hears Rean's noise of agreement a moment later, muffled by one last bite of cake as it is.

* * *

"Looking forward to the road trip portion of this trek, are we?" Machias observes with a shake of his head, staring in bemusement at the swordsman's near giddiness as he loads their bags onto the sidecar's rear rack.

"And here I thought he was happy to be getting away from us! Glad to hear that's not the case," Elliot jokes, watching the proceedings with a rueful smile.

"C'mon, guys – we'd love to stay longer, believe me! But with the time we have left – "

"Say no more," the gunman interrupts, nodding at Rean firmly before extending his hand. "Do give our regards to the others, and… accept our apologies for not staying in contact better," he finishes, looking a little ashamed.

"Yeah," a genuinely somber Elliot agrees. "Considering how close we were to Thors compared to everyone else, there wasn't really any excuse for us not to have not seen each other for so long. Letters are all well and good, but…"

"You mean other than your back-breaking class schedules?" Rean laughs, surprising them both. "Believe me, I'm not holding any hard feelings. Besides, there were a bunch of times during the year when I wasn't even on campus – I missed the graduation ceremony, for Aidios' sake!"

"I still can't believe that happened," Alisa says with a shake of her head even as the bespectacled man's jaw drops.

"Y-You _missed –_ " he chokes out, seemingly unable to comprehend the horror of what Rean had just said.

Elliot laughs. "He still got the diploma, right? Not a huge deal, I guess."

"That's hardly the point…!"

"Anyway," Rean says, grasping Machias' hand and shaking firmly (and Alisa swears she sees a knowing flicker in his eyes for a moment) before he heads to Elliot and does the same. "It was great to see you guys again. Best of luck with everything, and try not to work _too_ hard?"

"Yeah!" Alisa says, giving the Heimdallr pair brief but fierce hugs. "I expect the letter writing to continue, okay? And you two should find some ways to keep busy that don't involve books or music – I mean, I know that's why you're here, but too much of anything isn't good for you."

"Hm. Rest assured, we're not just focusing on academic pursuits. We've… found ways to occupy what little free time we have," Machias replies vaguely, lifting a hand to adjust his collar.

"Have we ever," the arts specialist agrees, looking a little pained but not elaborating any more than that.

Alisa raises an eyebrow but doesn't push the issue, instead opting to climb into the bike's sidecar and strap herself in. "That's satisfying to hear."

Rean starts the engine, unable to keep from grinning as it roars to life under his foot. "So's that."

As they pull away in a cloud of dust and a cry of excitement from Rean, Alisa turns back for one last look, and the last thing she sees in the rapidly fading distance are two small figures, their hands raised in a gesture of 'so long for now'.

* * *

"Hey," Alisa half-yells when they're almost to the city limits, the bike's ever-present exhaust note making it difficult to be heard. "Is it just me, or were Elliot and Machias acting a little weird earlier? You don't think anything's wrong, do you?"

There's silence from Rean, and Alisa isn't entirely sure if he even understood her. Before she can say anything, however –

"Their hands."

Alisa blinks at the non-sequitur. "Their hands?" she repeats, not entirely sure what he's getting at.

"A year of focusing on schoolwork alone means that the calluses from Machias' shotgun and Elliot's staff should have disappeared from their hands, or at least faded somewhat," Rean explains, his eyes surveying the road ahead of them. "They haven't. Not at all."

She understands immediately.

"They're still training, then?" Alisa asks, a little confused at what she now understood to have been misdirection. "But why would they hide that from us?"

"They probably don't want us to worry about them. I'd probably do the same thing in their position."

"Of course you would," she sighs. "But wouldn't their career choices keep them clear of any conflict? I'd have thought – "

"I used to think that too, but they're a part of Class VII just as much as any of us. Professional aspirations notwithstanding, if they feel that they can help in the fighting I think we both know they'd join the fray in a heartbeat. Plus, they've both got family connections with some of the Empire's key players; if there's anyone that understands how precarious the current situation is outside of 'his' inner circle, it'd be those two."

Alisa doesn't need to ask who Rean is referring to. It's complicated and he's conflicted, and she can only hope that he'll be open to talking about it someday.

"… We've got a good class, don't we?" he suddenly says, turning to briefly grace Alisa with a fond look.

Her eyes soften and she smiles back, feeling the tension ease away. "The best."

* * *

They enjoy the cruise from Heimdallr to Trista, relatively short as it may be, though try as he might Rean can't convince Alisa to try being the rider instead of the passenger for once.

Still, he concedes gracefully. There'll be other opportunities, and he's nothing if not persistent.

When they pull up to the gates, Rean stops for a second to drink in the welcome familiarity of his ( _their_ ) second home, and when Alisa steps forward with a happy noise and briefly catches his eye, he swears for a second that she's wearing Class VII red.

"Feels like just yesterday, huh?" he asks her, remembering all too well what it was like to take his first steps in the town after reuniting what seemed like the entire Thors student body onboard the Courageous, and her warm grin never fails to send a soothing hum up and down his spine.

"It really does. I'm so happy to be back," she breathes, drawing closer to the swordsman and entwining their fingers tightly. "I'm even happier that I came here to start with."

Rean hides a smile of his own, remembering the girl he had met that day, the girl who would have hidden her joy at returning with a furious blush and a flurry of deflection, and he squeezes her hand to let her know that yeah; he's happy she came, too.

* * *

Their trek through the town is a long one simply because they're getting stopped every few minutes by someone that wants to say hi; while Rean was still a familiar sight amongst Trista's populace, the blonde was not, and they were all too pleased to let her know just how much she – and the rest of their class – had been genuinely missed.

(Micht was the notable exception, but his disinterested grunt and borderline polite nod were pretty much what she expected. It would do people a lot of good to try and be as equally true to themselves, she muses).

When Rean stops for a moment on the main road to Thors, Alisa looks at him, curious. "Is there something wrong?"

He shakes his head with a quiet sigh. "Not at such. I just need to talk with Principal Vandyck when get to the main building, that's all."

"So serious all of a sudden," she teases. "Anything top secret?"

Rean laughs a little at that, somewhat less tense now. "Nope, nothing like that. The first thing I have to ask is if it's still okay if we use Class VII's old dormitory as lodging for tonight; there hasn't been a group in there since us and I brought it up with him a little while ago, but it's always better to make sure. And second… you'll see when we get in. I'd really like to hear your input, actually."

Alisa nods, deciding her questions can wait until later, and the pair resume walking in a comfortable silence.

* * *

"It's good to see you both again," Principal Vandyck's voice resonates in their ears, and neither one is entirely sure how it can have so much power despite it not being raised in the slightest.

"You as well, Principal, " Alisa replies, and as faintly ridiculous as it is she has a feeling that no matter how old she gets, she'll always feel like a student in front of this man. "Thors looks even better than when I left it!"

The ex-general chortles, clearly pleased with the words of praise, and for a second or two she's reminded of Gwyn. "Well, I'm certainly glad to hear that our efforts have passed muster! People should always strive to better themselves, and we, as the lifeblood of Thors, are no exception. Though this academy went through some hard times, there's not a doubt in my mind that it came back even stronger than it was before."

Both Rean and Alisa nod respectfully at that. Mere words, after all, hardly seemed sufficient.

"That aside; is there something I can help you with?" he inquires, his gaze flicking between them both before settling on Rean.

The swordsman's posture immediately straightens; old habits die hard, it seems. "Yes sir. I'd like to make sure that it's all right for us to use the old Class VII dorms for accommodations – "

Principal Vandyck laughs and waves a hand in their directions. "Of course! Far be it from me to keep two members of Class VII from using _their_ dormitory, especially seeing as it's only for a little while. It might be a little dusty, but otherwise it should be just as you lot left it."

"You lot?" Alisa repeats, sounding a little stunned. "Wait, you didn't sleep there at all after we left?"

"By _myself?_ " Rean answers, smirking a little at the face she makes back. "Don't get me wrong, I liked my old room and it has some great memories associated with it, but I didn't feel like spending my off-time at Thors as the only occupant of a three floor building."

He turns back to Principal Vandyck then, his expression turning serious again. "On that note, sir… about your offer. I'm sorry to say that I'll need a bit more time to make a decision – I hope that doesn't adversely affect anything!"

Vandyck smiles again, and there is nothing but patient understanding on the older man's face. "Of course. This isn't a choice that you should make with undue haste; we have plenty of time, so please, don't think you have to rush."

Rean nods gratefully. "Thank you. I'll give you my answer as soon as I can, you have my word."

Beside him, Alisa burns with curiosity and stays silent; knowing Rean, she'll be getting answers soon enough.

* * *

Saying her reaction doesn't disappoint when the moment comes is kind of an understatement.

"They want you for _**what?!**_ _"_

Rean coughs, his cheeks a faint shade of red. "Thors offered me a position on staff as a professor, of all things. Not on the main campus in Trista mind you, but at a branch school that's being opened near Reeves."

Well, she hadn't seen that coming.

It must still show on her face, because he chuckles and quips "Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction too," while running his fingers through his dark hair. "It kind of came out of the blue, and there honestly aren't a lot of details; I wouldn't know what class I'd be teaching, what kind of format I'd have to work under, or even how many kids I'd be responsible for."

Despite herself, she can't stop from smirking. "Kids, Rean? Really?"

He rolls his eyes playfully, knowing exactly what it sounds like. "Yeah, yeah. It feels weird knowing that my potential students are going to be the same age as we were when we first came to Thors."

Alisa snickers again, wearing a grin that he finds more than a little suspicious. "Okay, I'll bite. What is it?"

"You're totally going to be the hot teacher, you know," she teases, clearly enjoying the look of sheer mortification that works its way across her boyfriend's face. "I can picture it now; you trying to give a lecture on Erebonian history or military tactics, and none of the girls – and some of the guys, probably – will be paying attention because they'll be too busy doodling hearts around your name in their notebooks~!"

Rean drops his head into his hands with an exaggerated moan, much to the blonde's amusement. "Feel free to stop talking anytime now, Alisa. Really."

"Try and deny it all you want, Mr. Ashen Chevalier," she continues, standing to walk behind his chair before bending down and embracing him, pressing a kiss against his crown. "It'll happen, mark my words."

A hand reaches to lightly grasp hers, and she smiles into his hair when their warm fingers thread together. "And here all I was worried about was doing a bad job. This opportunity would sound like a scandal waiting to happen if not for the fact that I'm happily spoken for."

"Good answer, and don't you forget it."

He doesn't utter a word, and his silence says everything.

"… You don't actually think you'd do a bad job, do you? That's why you haven't taken the posting yet?" Alisa asks.

"That's not the only reason, but I'd be lying if I said that it hasn't run through my mind." He raises his head to look at her, and she's never liked seeing doubt on his face. "I mean, it's a really tall order, and when I think about the job that Instructor Sara did with us, I'm not sure that I'm the right person to – "

"You would be amazing as a teacher, Rean," Alisa tells him, her voice assuring and kind. "You would be. You're patient, understanding, and you want nothing more than to make the Empire a better place. Who better than someone like you to guide teenagers that'll be just like we were?"

The corner of his mouth curls up ever so slightly. "You're biased, though."

"Absolutely. That doesn't mean I'm not right."

The swordsman chuckles at that and lets his gaze drift aimlessly across the dormitory's main hall, half expecting to see Sharon poke her head out from the kitchen and call them all to dinner. "So. You're saying I should take it?"

The loud 'ha!' nearly startles him out of his seat, and it takes her arms tightening their grip to keep his from crashing gracelessly onto the ground. "Oh no, Rean. I'm not making it _that_ easy for you. This is still your decision, remember? I was just giving you my opinion on how suited you are for the job."

She sounds so self-satisfied and matter of fact about the whole affair that he can't help but start snickering, much to her faux-chagrin. "Fair enough. It looks like I still have quite a bit of thinking to do then, don't I?"

"You do, but try not to think too hard. Cross your arms and frown too much and you'll remind everyone of Machias."

Rean tries not to smile but doesn't quite pull it off. "I'll keep that in mind, though I'm not sure who's supposed to be less thrilled with the comparison."

"Something else for you to think about, then." She releases him and stands up, sending an inquisitive gaze his way. "Hey, you didn't have anything else planned for today, did you?"

He shakes his head. "Not really, no. I figured that it'd be nice to take it easy for the rest of the day and just hang around here. Why, did you have something in mind?"

"Kinda, yeah. I wanted to get some practice in at the Thors range; it's been a while since I've gotten a chance to use my bow and the last thing I want is to get rusty."

"I know the feeling. Is it okay if I stay here for now?"

"Of course! We're not connected at the hip, you know," Alisa teases, and is rewarded with a sheepish blush. "You probably want some time to brood, anyway."

He looks at her with narrowed eyes and exaggerated annoyance. "I don't brood!"

"Uh huh," she quips, her gaze fond. "Like I said, just don't do it too hard. The conflicted hero thing is better in books than in real life."

"Duly noted," he murmurs, pulling her close for a quick kiss. "Have fun. See you soon?"

Alisa rolls her eyes playfully before she shoulders her bow. "Please. You couldn't get rid of me if you tried and we both know it."

* * *

After she leaves, he glances around the empty room, uncomfortably reminded of the last time he had set foot here, a few days into his second year after returning from another stressful excursion to Crossbell.

He had barely made it five minutes, not even bothering to unpack, before he picked up his bags and walked to Principal Vandyck's office, asking if he could move into a spare room in the commoner dorms instead. Being there by himself had just felt so… wrong.

Families and friends made homes. Without the others, the dormitory was just another building in Trista, albeit one with pleasant memories and a lot of space.

Still, the quiet atmosphere was relaxing, and even now Rean started to feel the weight of indecision start to ease from his shoulders, being replaced by the calm that he had been instructed by his master to always seek.

 _"What now?"_ he thinks, wholly unused to having off-time by himself.

There was training like Alisa, or walking around Trista and catching up with the few people he hadn't seen yet, or…

… Or.

On a whim, he quickly heads up to his old room and pumps his fist in victory when he sees that in his haste to leave, he had forgotten to take his old fishing gear with him.

Hmm. Well, they _did_ need dinner, didn't they?

* * *

The archer stands in front of the targets, poised and ready.

Her left arm rises, bow in hand, and her right notches the arrow in one fluid motion, the action second nature at this point.

She takes a deep breath, her arms and shoulders as steady as ever. Her crimson eyes sight the bullseye in the distance, and as they narrow she feels all her worries (Reinford, the Empire, Rean) drift away like fading smoke.

Alisa takes aim.

Absentmindedness would not be tolerated here. During her time at Thors, this had become holy ground for her, her refuge and sanctuary, and these hallowed lawns deserved nothing less than her absolute best.

The first shot flies into the blue, one of many to follow. She exhales in satisfaction, readies herself again, and all that surrounds her is sun and breeze and sky.

* * *

When Alisa gets back to the dorm, she finds a thoughtful looking Rean in the kitchen standing over a variety of ingredients. When he asks if she wants to help, she grins and saunters over, looking over the spread with a critical eye.

"… There's an awful lot of fish here, isn't there?"

Rean shrugs, his lips curling upward, but he doesn't actually answer.

* * *

Dinner is delicious, though she has to talk him out of taking another shot at making seafood salad ("Seafood and vegetables, Rean. You took seafood and vegetables and somehow made an adhesive agent so potent and corrosive that I'm not sure why we didn't try to reproduce and sell it.")

("… Says the woman who once made a pasta version of the Petrification Shell. Machias wasn't sure if he should have been impressed or horrified.")

They talk about a lot of things, they talk about nothing, and about halfway through it strikes him how normal, how frighteningly domestic this all is, and Rean wonders if Alisa notices how easily they slipped into it.

If she does, she doesn't let on. The tingle in his gut might be disappointment, but he's not about to spare the time to find out. He's got enough things on his mind as is.

* * *

Alisa's sitting up in her old bed, methodically rolling her shoulders and wincing all the while. Her practice had been nothing but fantastic, but it had been a fair bit since she had really put herself through a tough range session, so now her muscles, ligaments, and tendons were now paying the price for her efforts.

The blonde grits her teeth and forces a pained sigh through, chastising herself for neglecting her archery. She'll need to schedule more time for this when she returns, she decides.

There's a knock at the door, and she can only stifle a laugh. "Come in, Rean."

When Rean walks in, he's only dressed in a thin t-shirt and sweatpants, and ridiculous as it is Alisa feels her breath catch. "You ready for tomorrow?" he greets, squinting a little in the dim light cast by her bedside lamp.

"Yeah, I'd say so. Wake up early, eat breakfast and then leave for Bareahard, leaving Celdic for the way back. It'll be great to see Jusis again, won't it? I'm pretty sure he's been as busy as everyone else, so a day off would be good for him, too."

"I'll say," Rean agrees with a grin – something that fades quite quickly when he sees her grimace. "What's wrong?"

"Guess I pushed a little too hard earlier," Alisa admits, a little embarrassed at her carelessness. "Nothing major, really. I'll be good as new tomorrow morning!"

He frowns.

"Really, I will be!" she insists, blushing a little at his scrutiny.

Alisa stiffens a little when Rean walks over and has a seat next to her. "Maybe so, but this'll help. Relax, okay?"

His hands – warm as ever – come up to rest on her shoulder blades, and before she can protest they start to apply pressure, and _oh Aidios_ she's going to shut up now.

"Relax," he repeats, and it's not like she can do much else.

Her tense muscles begin to unknot under his gentle but steady ministrations, and Alisa slowly lets herself be carried away by the waves of relief, her breaths starting to be replaced with pleased sighs and quiet moans, and she's not exactly unaware of the effect this is having on him.

It's only fair, considering the effect he's having on her. It had been a long time, after all.

She bites her lip when his fingertips hit a particularly sensitive spot, trying to stifle the noise. Judging from the groan she hears and the shudder she feels, she doesn't try nearly hard enough.

(Oops).

After a few more minutes of heaven, Alisa pulls away and turns around, and her blood ignites when she stares into narrowed fuchsia eyes that are darkened with desire, want and need coming together and swirling so thoroughly that she can't tell where one ends and the other begins.

Goddess above, he's still the most beautiful sight she's ever seen.

"A-Alisa – " Rean begins, the timbre of his voice low and shaky, and he's barely hanging onto the precipice of control and rationality.

Time to fix that.

She kisses him to muffle his protest, hard and deep and slow, and it only takes seconds for him to return the favor just as fiercely, not uttering a word when she pushes him down onto the bed.

His hands are skimming her hipbones under her loose pyjama top, every touch making her dizzy and stealing the breath from her lungs because again _it's been far too long_.

"Hi," Alisa whispers, her fingers running through his hair.

"Hey."

She smiles a smile she's never given anyone else. She may never stop.

"I love you."

Rean smiles back. "I love you."

He tugs her down, they lose themselves, and everything is perfect.

* * *

Rean thinks Alisa's asleep, curled against his chest as she is, but he's jolted out of his drowsy, afterglow induced stupor when she quietly asks "Did you think about it any?"

The swordsman shifts. "… A little."

She looks up with tired, half-lidded eyes and waits.

"If I say yes," he confesses, his arms wrapped around her waist, "I… I don't want to mess this up."

It's a huge task, shaping those who would become the future. He's not sure how Master Kafai, Instructor Sara, and the other teachers he's had in his life had managed to do it, and he's not ashamed to admit that he's afraid, because this is a challenge that even the Eight Leaves can't help him stare down.

"If you say yes because you want to say yes," Alisa replies, her hand coming up to ghost across his cheek, "then I know you won't."

Her words are full of trust and faith and belief, and he swallows hard, blinking his suddenly moist eyes. He wants desperately to speak, _tries_ desperately to speak, but nothing comes out.

He kisses her again to calm his racing heart instead, and when Rean feels her smile he knows she understands, because she is Alisa and she always does.

His tired eyes flutter shut with the quiet ecstasy of catharsis, the turning of a page, and the last thing he sees before sleep claims him is the radiant gold of her hair; the color of the sun guiding the world toward morning.

* * *

She briefly wakes up to light streaming through the window. Next to her, Rean is warm, solid, and showing no signs of waking up soon.

The birds are chirping outside, the fabric of the blanket is soft against her skin, and Alisa's more than content to lie there and listen to his heart, each beat whisking her a step closer back to slumber.

It feels a little like peace, she thinks.

* * *

"… Hey."

Rean looks up from loading their things onto the sidecar racks, curious. "What's up, Alisa?"

She pauses, considering. "Do you think I could drive to Bareahard?"

Alisa immediately starts blushing and protesting in a vintage performance when he grins and victoriously throws his arms in the air, and it takes a passing Micht yelling at the pair to kindly shut the hell up that finally gets Rean to knock it off.

* * *

Bareahard, in contrast to the rest of their journey so far, feels a little more… regimented, she supposes.

Arriving in the Verdant City had been simple enough, as had been getting to the Albarea mansion, but then once they got inside they found themselves set upon by a veritable army of caretakers, all of them apologizing profusely for Lord Jusis as he was running late from a meeting, so would they be so kind as to wait for his Grace…?

That hadn't been so bad, if not for every eye in the estate having turned toward them when they walked around, the words "Ashen Chevalier" and "future head of Reinford" being reverentially tossed around with exhausting regularity. It was kind of like being a living museum exhibit, if she was being perfectly honest.

She jibes that maybe they should charge admission, and while Rean rolls his eyes he doesn't disagree.

When Jusis had come out, dressed in the traditional attire of his office, it was all formalities and decorum. The two swordsmen cordially greeted each other in the standards of the nobility, while Alisa conducted her own salutation with the professional air of a company president meeting a potential client.

It was all maddening, really, and Alisa felt for the young man; this was his role as the head of Bareahard, after all, and though it was one he willingly embraced she could see how it must have been hard for him in many respects,

Then the servants had been dismissed, the doors had been closed, and with two quick hugs the taciturn leader had been replaced in an instant with the Jusis of Class VII.

"Don't get carried away now," he had sighed, though with undeniable warmth in his tone. "We've been separated, but it's not as if anyone died."

"Careful, Jusis. Any more talk like that and you'll need to dye your hair green and start wearing glasses," Rean tweaked shamelessly, and Alisa snickered as Jusis bit back a groan.

"If you were anyone but you, I'd issue a formal challenge to duel. That's a grave insult, and I'd welcome the chance to even my record against you. You may be unpleasantly surprised by the result," he scoffed with his familiar imperiousness, tapping the ornate saber at his side with a pointed sniff before he'd turned to lead them toward the dining room…

"… and that's the state of the Riding Club! Paula did a great job with it, really, especially in dealing with the first years; well, second years now, I guess. You and Lambert should both be proud," Rean tells him, and despite himself Jusis can't quite stop the small smile from working its way across his face.

"Of course. As insufferable as she started out, there's no doubt that there was no better person to leave in charge of the club. Still, I suppose it's reassuring that she lived up to my expectations."

Alisa makes a face and looks at Rean. That's Jusis talk for 'I'm glad my friend did well', right?"

"Pretty sure it is, yeah."

The other man snorts. "Speaking of insufferable…"

In spite of the light atmosphere, however, both Rean and Alisa both remembered the main source of their friend's stress the previous year all too well, and when Jusis sets his fork down with an uncomfortable sigh it's clear the elephant in the room is about to be addressed.

"… He's doing as well as could be expected. In terms of physical health he's perfectly well, though from a psychological standpoint…"

Rean grimaces when Jusis trails off, the prospect of being held as a prisoner in his own home about as appealing to him as it was to Duke Albarea. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Jusis' features harden. "Don't be. Whatever my relation to him, his actions in Celdic were beyond the pale and he's deserving of whatever he faces now or in the future. Even the hardliners of the Noble Alliance acknowledged that."

There's a slight catch in the blonde's voice in spite of his best efforts, and Rean understands the conflict he faces all too well.

Father figures can be difficult that way, sometimes.

The sound of a derisive snort snaps him out of it, and his gaze flies back toward Jusis, arms crossed and looking distinctly unimpressed.

"I know that look, Rean. I can assure you, I've come to peace with the situation. It is what it is, and what's done can never be undone. What I _can_ do is be the best leader that I can be for Bareahard and its people going forward."

He pauses, blue eyes glimmering with resolve and his head held high, every inch the dignified noble. "I will be what he refused to be and what my brother cannot be. That's all there is to it."

The response is firm, proud, and so typically _Jusis_ that it hurts, and he frowns when he sees them both try to hold back grins and fail. "Oh, I apologize for my carelessness. It's been so long since I've seen you that I'd forgotten that Rean holds sole dominion over dramatic personal declarations. That's a breach of decorum on my part."

"H-Hey!" Rean protests, glaring at Alisa when she dissolves into peals of helpless laughter. "I do not!"

"So you say. Would you like a list of moments that beg to differ?"

"Well," Alisa manages to get out, smirking a little at the borderline sulking Rean, "at least we know you don't need any cheering up. You seem to be doing just fine here, workaholic tendencies aside – though I think that's been the case for the rest of us so far."

"And even if you did need a little pep talk," Rean chimes in, sensing a prime opportunity to counterattack, "then I've got someone that'd be far better at it than me."

The other watches, suspicious, as the dark haired man pulls out his ARCUS and pretends to start dialing, an exaggerated air to every move he makes.

"So, when's the last time you talked with Millium, anyway – "

"You - don't you _**dare**_!"

* * *

"Where are you both off to now?" Jusis asks, raising an eyebrow a little when he sees their chosen mode of transportation.

"Aurochs Fort," Rean answers, returning the questioning look with a shrug and a smile. "It's more accessible than the Twin Dragons Bridge and it's got a radio setup that's almost as good."

Jusis understands immediately, and he nods with a small smile of his own. "I see. Should you manage to reach them, please pass on my best wishes, along with anyone else from our class you've still yet to meet."

"Even the tiny one?" Alisa teases, and Jusis rolls his eyes.

"If I can somehow spare positive regards for the likes of Regnitz, then the tiny one should be no problem."

"Heh. Softy."

* * *

"Do you think this will really work?"

Rean makes his final adjustments to the frequency dial and prepares to make the call, not looking all that certain himself. "I honestly don't know. The equipment will function fine, but whether or not anyone's going to be on the other end… well."

Alisa nods once, stepping beside him and powering the unit on. "I've heard that bracers operate under their own schedule. Still, we're here. No time like the present, huh?"

"Well said." He grabs the receiver and thumbs the 'transmit' button, the static giving way toward silence. "This is Rean Schwarzer. Can anybody hear me?"

Nothing.

Alisa frowns. "Is there anyone there?"

One second. Two seconds. Three. Then…

"… Well. There are some voices I haven't heard in a while. And you even managed to get ahold of us without any help! Full marks, you two."

"You sound surprised. C'mon, Sara. It's Rean and Alisa we're talking about here."

Rean breaks into a wide grin as Alisa gives a joyful laugh. "Hey there, Instructor. Hi to you too, Fie."

* * *

The pair would have thought that repeatedly explaining what they had been up to would have gotten boring by this point, but, miracle of miracles, that wasn't the case. Alisa gladly tells them about her duties with Reinford, Rean explains – within reason – what he's been up to in his capacity as the Empire's Ashen Chevalier, and between the two of them Sara and Fie aren't lacking for good stories.

She does notice, though, that he never once mentions the job offer from Thors, and she also noticed looking back that he had never even hinted it to their other friends. Alisa files this away for later; it's a curiosity for sure, but not a pressing one.

"How about you, Fie?" Rean inquires, leaning back with his arms crossed. "How has your first year as an official bracer been?"

"Eh," and they can both picture the white haired girl shrugging casually as she perches on top of a munitions crate, looking as bored as ever. "S'okay, I guess. The rookie bracers all get stuck with the easy jobs; delivering mail, escorting shipments, stuff like that, so…"

"She's Rean, basically," Sara helpfully pipes in, and she chuckles when Rean mutters something in exasperation, rolling his eyes all the while. "But that's how it works. The more challenging requests come with the higher ranks, and at the rate Fie's been going…"

"I sure hope so. The last job I did was babysitting, and I'm not being sarcastic or anything. I actually had to watch kids for an entire day."

 _"I'd pay hard earned mira to see *that*_ ," their expressions scream, but both decide that some things are better left unsaid.

"Gee, looking after children for pay? I wonder what that's like. Never tried it myself, y'know," Sara deadpans, with the other three not rising to the obvious bait. "Well, not without beer after, anyway."

Fie snorted. "I was kinda tempted, believe me. Not that I could have gotten served anywhere."

A few seconds pass.

"So," Rean begins, looking concerned. "How goes your other reason for travelling with Instructor Sara…?"

The ex-jaeger's sigh is barely audible. "It's been frustrating. It's not like there aren't any leads, but none of them end up going anywhere. Xeno and Leo are too good at covering their tracks, and none of the jaeger corps we've encountered seem to know anything about them, what they're up to, or even where they came from. To them, Zephyr's just another group that faded away like so many of the others did."

"That's actually where Toval is right now," Sara adds, her earlier levity all but gone. "He's scoping out a rumor or two that we thought might give us something, but from what he's told us so far…"

"It'll probably be another dead end," Fie finishes, sounding supremely irritated. "Family or not, I'm gonna make them pay for this wild goose chase when I finally catch up with them, mark my words."

Alisa chuckles. "That's the spirit!"

"But tell me," the Purple Lightning breaks in again, sounding eager. "You said that you saw some of the others, right? How are they doing? Any juicy tidbits?"

"You _would_ jump right to gossip, wouldn't you?" the archer says, shaking her head.

Rean toys with one of his sleeve buttons thoughtfully, his brow knitted. "There's actually not that much to say. Millium's the same as ever, Gaius and Nord are both flourishing, Elliot and Machias are almost done their classes, Jusis is doing a fantastic job with Bareahard, and that just leaves Laura and Emma… and there's nothing that indicates those two are going to break the trend."

Sara makes a disappointed noise. "Boooooring. Don't get me wrong, it's fantastic that everyone's doing great and all, but something new and exciting would have been nice to hear about."

The swordsman raises an eyebrow when Alisa sits straighter in her chair, looking a little amused. "I don't know if this counts, but Elliot's grown a couple of riges taller and is pulling off a great looking ponytail."

A half gasp, half guffaw from the older bracer. "Ponytail?!"

"A couple of riges?" Fie demands next, sounding more than a little annoyed. "That bites. And here I was hoping have caught up to him the next time we saw each other. So much for that."

"Aww, don't say that," Sara 'consoles', and judging from the swatting noise she was doing the head-pat thing again with Fie wanting no part of it. "You're still growing! Well, kinda. You're taller than you were, anyway."

"Not by much!" the ex-jaeger fires back, the riposte coming immediately.

"Yeah, but you have to look on the brighter side of things, Fie! I mean, your hair's gotten longer too. Plus, there's still room to grow vertically. Horizontally… well, you fill out your clothes better, that's for sure. Not exactly great yet, but better."

Rean makes a strangled noise before his face finds its way to his palm in short order. "Wow. That's… wow."

Alisa snorts. "Our homeroom teacher, everyone."

"Gee, thanks," Fie grouses, and to her credit she doesn't sound particularly embarrassed at the frank discussion of her proportions. "I'm really curious to see how he looks with longer hair, though. I can kinda picture it, but…"

Sara clicks her tongue twice before adding in her two mira, and it's clear even without seeing that she's shaking her head. "Hmm. I really can't. All I can see is the same tiny redhead with a violin."

"Really, Instructor?" Rean says, a little surprised at how matter of fact she sounds. "It takes a little doing, but I'm sure that if you tried…"

There's a long pause, and when Sara speaks again, it's with an ineffable quality to her voice that neither Rean nor Alisa can place. "I don't think I'd be able to no matter what I did, guys. Hell, if I hadn't seen Fie every day for the past year, I'd never believe she'd grown as much as she has. You have to understand, you're always gonna…"

She trails off, and Rean leans forward, concerned. "We're always gonna…?" he repeats, wondering what she was going to say.

"No matter what happens," she begins again, sounding like she's telling a story she's told a thousand times over but never gets tired of, "when I close my eyes, you bunch are always going to be the teenagers that got dumped ass over teakettle into the basement of the Old Schoolhouse. That's just the way it is, and probably the way it always will be."

 _None of you age to me._

Her students say nothing. It's very possible there's nothing more to say.

* * *

They're relaxing in the fort's rest area, in separate beds but still next to each other; while they were the only occupants, more could come in at any time, and it went without saying that every single staff member on site knew who they were. In times like this, discretion and the preservation of propriety were absolutely paramount, stifling as it was.

Alisa looks up from the journal she's reading to glance at her boyfriend. "Hey, Rean?"

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering – was there a reason that you didn't tell Instructor Sara about Thors' offer? I'd have thought you'd have wanted her opinion, or something."

His brow furrows just the slightest bit, and she knows conflict when she sees it.

"Not as such. I think she would have told me the reasons she accepted the posting at Thors and why she ended up enjoying it, but the person she was and the person I am – well, we're two very different people. I'm not sure how much it would have helped. Plus… until I make up my mind, it's something that I'd rather keep to myself, that's all."

A perfectly understandable sentiment, except for one thing.

"Uh… I get that, but didn't you already kind of mess that up by telling me, though?"

Rean blinks, looking genuinely puzzled. "Yeah, but… that's different, though. You're you. I can tell you anything."

… Unfair.

The blonde reaches over to take his hand, which is a huge concession considering that what she really wants to do is kiss him senseless in a way that will A: forever ensure their places in Erebonian gossip column lore and B: get them permanently banned from any Imperial institution that offers lodging.

(As if he hasn't inspired enough impulsivity lately. The nerve of some people…)

* * *

They arrive in Legram, and Rean never tires of the ethereal quality that the mist gives the town; it's like something out of a fairy tale or a bedtime story, and not even the memories of what happened at Lohengrin can wash the wondrous sensation away.

Having to deal with Laura's many admirers, however, comes damn close, and between the outright hostility from those besotted with the Arseid scion –

" _You_ again? Listen here; Ashen Chevalier or no, any untoward intentions toward Lady Laura will be met with severe repercussions!"

– and the passive aggressive replies from Alisa, who for all her personal growth had never dealt well with blatant provocation –

"Wow, Rean! I'd always known that Laura was amazing, but I had no idea just what she had to put up with over the years! She's really got the patience of a saint, huh?"

– well, by the time they had managed to suss out where exactly Laura and Viscount Arseid were training, Rean was all but ready to run there because any more time spent in Legram and something was going to _give_.

"Do you think they'd look better with some teeth missing?" Alisa wonders as they briskly stride away from the glares and harried whispers, pointedly ignoring the Look that Rean was giving her. "Because I think they'd look amazing with some teeth missing."

"Play nice," he sighs, adjusting the tachi at his hip. "They're just… protective, that's all."

"Hmph. Protective's 'a' word, for it, I guess. It's not the one I would use, though."

"Haha. Fair enough." He pauses before he drops a kiss on the back of her head, murmuring words of gratitude into her hair. "Thanks, by the way."

She pokes him in the side as a reply, and snickers when he jumps.

* * *

The mountain plateau the Arseids use for training isn't particularly far, nor is the trek strenuous; if anything, Alisa thinks that it would serve for an easy warmup for the likes of Laura.

The closer they get to the area, though, the less Rean says, and when the faintest sound of steel on steel rings through the air he almost stops responding entirely, his expression tense.

Alisa's not sure what's up – he's not angry or upset, she can tell that much – but there's definitely something on his mind.

Finally, they reach a rocky area overlooking the flat expanse that they had been told about, and as if to confirm their arrival the sound of sword steel clashing rings through the air again, except this time it's far louder and interspersed with the sound of fierce exertion.

All that takes a backseat, however, when the archer spies a figure overlooking the action, a staff in hand. When she gets closer, she sees a hat, sunlight glinting off glasses, a long chestnut braid, and beside her is a black… cat…?

It can't be –

"Emma?!" Alisa calls out, visibly startled, and when the watcher gives a shocked gasp and spins around the blonde is met by the unmistakable visage of Class VII's former President.

Rean snaps out of it long enough to laugh in delight, having recognized their friend just as quickly. "Is that you?" he asks rhetorically, and the happy giggle she lets out when she runs to meet them – followed, as always, by a grinning Celine – is answer enough.

* * *

"Just coincidence, huh?" Alisa says, more than a little surprised at their good fortune.

Emma nods in affirmation. "That's right. It's a shock to me, too! I originally came back here to look at Castle Lohengrin again; I didn't really have time during our travels to explore it in depth, and I thought that while I was here…"

"Why not kill two birds with one stone?" Celine finishes, cleaning a paw from her spot at Emma's feet.

"Hehe. Well, she's not wrong."

 _"That's right. Machias said that you were working on something, weren't you?"_ Alisa thinks, deciding to save that particular conversation for another time.

Instead, "We're glad you did! It's great to see you two again, even if it is by accident. Right, Rean?"

No answer.

"Rean?" Emma calls out, looking concerned, and the dark haired man flicks a quick glance in their directions.

"… Sorry, Emma, Celine, Alisa. We're going to have to save most of the catch-up session for later, if that's okay."

There is steel in his voice, the likes of which she hasn't heard in a long time, but before she can find the words to reply, Rean looks toward the clearing, where Laura and the Radiant Blademaster are currently engaged in a blade lock, and calls out.

"Laura S. Arseid!"

The pair separate immediately, identical gazes flying up toward the interloper, before the blue haired woman's eyes widen in recognition.

"Rean?! And Alisa and Emma, too? What in the world are you – "

The sound of his tachi being unsheathed echoes through the air, and the Arseid heiress blinks when her fellow swordsman extends his blade in a universal gesture of challenge.

"I'll make my intentions perfectly clear. As an initiate of the Eight Leaves, One Blade, I've come to test my skills against the inheritor of the Arseid School!"

The reactions are both predictable and immediate.

"What?!" Alisa demands from her vantage point, eyes going wide.

"Why?!" Emma throws in, looking equally as stunned.

"Geez. He's graduated from giving corny speeches to dramatic introductions now," Celine grumbles, flicking her tail. "I'd hate to see how he wishes someone a happy birthday…"

Victor's laughter booms across the plains, the elder swordmaster clearly enthused with the proceedings. "Intriguing, Rean Schwarzer, and passing bold for a reunion of friends! I warn you, however; formidable as the sword arts of the East may be, the style of our family is no less capable."

Turning toward his daughter, he says with a fey glint in his eye, "Well, Laura?"

She blinks once, than twice, before any hesitation is swept away, only to be replaced by the steadfast dignity that her friends know so well, and the weight of her sword had only ever been matched by the weight of her pride.

Laura nods once in assent, before her own weapon sweeps upward and points at Rean's in a perfect mirror image. "Your challenge has been heard and accepted, Rean Schwarzer! I, Laura S. Arseid of the Arseid School, will put your Eight Leaves to the test here and now!"

He smiles – just the barest upturn of his lips – and he gracefully leaps down and lands in stance. Rean watches as Laura readies herself a few arges away, a smile of her own gracing her beautiful features, and waits.

"So," Celine casually says, watching as Victor's arm comes down to signal the start of the match, "this is gonna end badly."

Alisa makes a face, still not able to believe what just happened. "Probably, yeah."

"D-Don't say that!" Emma cries, her frantic gaze flying between her familiar and her classmate. "I-I'm sure Rean and Laura – "

"Lack restraint and'll up the ante sooner rather than later? I agree," Celine comments as the swords of the two combatants clash for the first time, a symphony of restrained violence. "I'd get ready for some healing pretty soon, Emma."

Emma whirls around, a look of disapproval on her bespectacled face as the cries and crashes get louder. "You're not helping!"

"Do I ever?"

The archer cracks an unwilling smirk at that. "Sudden as this is, I think they'll be fine," Alisa finally says, her eyes not leaving the (duelsparbattle?) once. "Probably. I like your hat, by the way."

Emma's hands immediately fly up to her head, an embarrassed flush working its way across her cheeks, and Alisa feels a sudden pang at the familiarity of it all. "Oh! Um… thank you," she replies, laughing a little in spite of herself. "I kind of wanted to try something new – so to speak – and, well…"

"She wears it a lot better than Vita does, to boot. Or Misty, or whatever she's calling herself now."

The brunette's blush only deepens at the mention of the Anguis, and Alisa can only figure that Celine's decided to throw Emma a lifeline when she adds in, "But hey; any bets on who's going to kick things up a notch here? It looks like it's really getting serious."

"Oh, come on now! I really don't think – "

 ** _"Flames, gather on my blade!"_**

Emma's face pales, Celine starts cackling, and Alisa can only shake her head.

* * *

When all is said and done, the entire affair ends in a draw, with Victor standing above an exhausted but somehow not seriously injured Rean and Laura. He of course welcomes them all back to Legram and invites them to spend the night at the Arseid estate, though there's a slight disappointment about the Radiant Blademaster that he can't quite hide, and Alisa privately thinks it's because he really wanted to spar against the winner.

(The apple not falling far from the tree, and all that).

* * *

"Wow," Celine mutters, eying the sleeping Laura with a critical eye. "She's out like a light."

Emma can only giggle at that from her own bed, running a brush through her long hair all the while. "Well, after that training match she and Rean had, it's no wonder. I'm honestly amazed they both managed to stay awake through dinner."

Considering both combatants were dead on their feet, the meal had actually been quite successful, all things considered. In between yawns and pained grimaces (both Rean and Laura insisted Emma not strain herself), the Arseid heiress had proudly explained just how far she had come in her training, to the point where she was slated to become an assistant instructor and begin taking on students of her own.

"That's so great! You're going to be an amazing teacher," Alisa had exclaimed, and she returned Rean's raised eyebrow with a mild glare that read _that wasn't a hint, because I meant what I said._

He had the good sense to look a little apologetic, though it had lost most of its impact when he had yawned again, much to Celine's not so thinly veiled amusement.

That had led to the Viscount's suggestion that they all retire early, and after they had all promised to fully catch up the next morning – there was no point if two of their number were barely conscious – Rean had disappeared into one of the guest rooms and not been seen since then; knowing him, he had probably fallen asleep the minute his head had hit the pillow.

The three (well, four) women were left to occupy another guest room, with Laura being more than amenable to staying with her friends for one night. Not that she succeeded in staying awake to talk with them, but it was the thought that counted…

"I'm impressed too," Alisa agrees with a nod and a laugh, "but I think they thought it would look bad if they collapsed into their food. Willpower's an amazing thing."

Emma simply smiles softly at that, and the conversation lapses into comfortable silence.

* * *

"… Are you still awake too, Alisa?"

Her answer comes in a whisper, not wanting to awaken Laura. "Yeah. I can't seem to doze off for some reason."

A considering noise. "The excitement of the day, maybe?" Emma ponders, and if she had her glasses on she would almost certainly be adjusting them right now. "It was certainly eventful for all of us."

Alisa wrinkles her nose. "Maybe. I've been sleeping okay for most of the trip, though, so I'm not sure what's going on."

"Oh, that's right… I keep forgetting this is the last major leg of your vacation. I know we're supposed to do the story swapping tomorrow, but perhaps I could get a teaser? It might help us both get to sleep…"

She doesn't say anything for a few moments, weighing her options.

"… Rean and I met Mr. Tiddles in Heimdallr, if you remember who that is."

The archer half expects for Emma to have no idea what she's talking about. She's pleasantly surprised.

"… the feared Rodent Scourge of the Ost District. That certainly sounds like a memorable experience," Emma replies, and there's a tenderness to her words that wasn't there before. "Hehe. I'm sort of jealous."

The blonde doesn't bother elaborating. Alisa's learned the value of silence from her mother; keep quiet long enough, and you'd be amazed at what the other person will say to fill that void.

"… H-How are they?" she inquires. There's a slight hitch, a soft stutter in her normally melodic voice, and Alisa can see two yellow eyes gleaming with interest from the foot of Emma's bed.

"I can go into details tomorrow, but they're both doing fine. Elliot's focused on his music, and Machias… is Machias," Alisa replies with a chuckle. "They've both got longer hair, too. Elliot's has grown way more and our ex-VP's is… messy in that neat way, I guess?"

The sound of her quiet giggle echoes in the small room. "You know, I can sort of imagine it a little if I try really hard."

"Sara couldn't," Alisa tells her with an affectionate smile.

Emma doesn't say anything, and Alisa wonders if she's finally drifted off.

"… I'm glad. It always looked better messy."

The words are dreamy and almost painfully honest, and when Alisa chances a quick look over, her eyes soften when she sees the brunette facing the wall, blanket wrapped tightly around her slim form.

"Yeah. I think so, too."

She bites her lip after that, because there's a lot of things Alisa wants to tell her _(you're allowed to want things, to think of yourself instead of others, to be brave)_ but she's not sure if it's her place. Emma's duty to the Hexen is the entire reason she came to Thors to start with, it's something she's still bound to now, and more than that – it's part of her identity, who she fundamentally is as a person, and a keystone like that can't be removed without something crumbling entirely.

… But.

"Hey, Emma?"

Her message goes out into the dark with no reply, a ship with no port in sight. She sails on regardless.

"… It's okay to be selfish once in a while, I think," Alisa says, and she feels a little foolish because 'best you can do' doesn't always mean 'good enough'.

Twin points of light appear in her field of view as yellow meets crimson in something that looks like thanks, and while neither one speaks, both understand.

They all sleep soundly.

* * *

"It was so good to see you all again," Laura breathes, drawing all of them into a fierce embrace, and squished as she is in the middle Emma can't help a joyful laugh.

"You too, Laura, Emma," Rean replies warmly, holding his friends tightly before letting go. "You're sure to do a great job as an instructor – if I'm not careful, you're going to leave me in the dust!"

"Hm! I'm honored to have such praise coming from the Ashen Chevalier," she quips, a rare playful smile on her face. "I'll be sure to at least record a decisive victory the next time we clash, that's for certain."

"You'll have to get in line with Jusis – I'm pretty sure he wants a crack at me too, and Gaius mentioned that he'd want to see how much he's improved as well. My dance's card's going to be a little full, I think."

Her eyes gleam at the prospect of facing off against the lancer and fencer. "I'm sure we'll be able to work something out."

"Looking forward to it! I, uh, think. And you, Emma," Rean says, flashing a grin at her, "if you need any help at all in your journey, just say the word. I'm not sure how much assistance the Empire's archives will be, but there's stuff in there dating back centuries."

"Hehe. I'll certainly keep that in mind if I'm ever stymied."

"You'd better," Alisa mock grumbles, though a smile breaks through before long. "And the letter writing had better not stop, either!"

"I-I'll do my best," the brunette assures them. "When I resume my travels in a little while it might be difficult, but rest assured – if I can reply, then I will."

Laura blinks, interested. "In a little while? You're not going back to your village right away, Emma?"

She shakes her head. "I… decided to delay my return for a little while in favor of something else. My grandmother and the other elders might not be pleased, but…"

"Oh? What did you have in mind?" Rean inquires.

The witch's frank gaze meets Alisa's, and the light dusting of pink on her cheeks is a telltale of the worst sort. "… Being selfish."

Alisa laughs long and loud, much to the confusion of the other two Class VII members.

"I'm glad," the blonde tells her, taking a few steps closer to whisper in her ear, "but listen; if he decides to take you to a bookstore or somewhere equally as unromantic, let me know so I can go and shoot his kneecaps out, okay?

Emma nearly drops her staff, and Alisa didn't know that eyes could even go that wide. "W-W-What?!"

Celine looks up from cleaning her paw and nods sagely. "You got it."

"C-Celine!" she chokes, and her familiar does what she does best – ignores the outburst entirely.

"Good! I'll leave it to you, then," Alisa declares, bending down to shake the cat's paw.

"B-But that's just – I mean, how can you two possibly think – I happen to _like_ bookstores!" Emma cries out indignantly.

A dainty feline sniff. "So? All that really means is that your taste in date spots is as odd as your taste in dates. You're consistent, I'll give you that much."

"D-Did we miss something?" Laura quietly whispers to Rean in an aside, watching Emma's outrage with a wary expression.

He shrugs. "It's possible? I mean, I don't know about you but there's a black spot in my memory from yesterday that the Courageous can just about fly through, so…"

* * *

It's on their way back to Celdic that Alisa remembers that she's forgotten to do something very important.

"So, about that fight with Laura…"

"Hmm? What is it?"

The resulting yell is enough to convince the local wildlife that better prey is found elsewhere. _**"What the *hell*, Rean?!"**_

* * *

Admittedly it doesn't take her very long to calm down after he's finished hastily explaining his desire to test just how far they'd both come as warriors, though he's got a feeling that the ringing in his ears will be bothering him for a while longer.

* * *

Neither one knows how to feel when they arrive in Celdic.

There was no doubting that it would forever be the town where Rean and Alisa had truly learned what it meant to be part of Class VII, what it meant to fight for what they believed in… among other things.

It would also be the town where they witnessed the sort of atrocities that war could bring, that it didn't care about innocent victims, and that while damaged didn't mean destroyed, rebuilt also didn't mean repaired. For better or for worse, Celdic had taught them lessons that would never be forgotten, and it was only fitting to recognize that.

Rean shuts his eyes for a moment, letting the memories wash over him, pierce through him, swirl within him, and he understands how ghosts are born.

"… So. Where to?"

* * *

Their first visit is to Celdic's cemetery; they would have gone to visit Otto's widow beforehand, but she's out of town on business. They're disappointed that they missed her, but it's tempered with bittersweet relief at her following in her late husband's footsteps.

In front of them lie rows of markers, each plaque of stone a testament to someone that had once dreamed, laughed, and cried, and as masochistic as it is Rean forces himself not to look away, letting the result of Duke Albarea's cruelty burn itself into his memories.

Rean hates that they were too late to help. He hates that so many had to die for a war they didn't want to fight. But most of all, he hates that if Erebonia's not careful, he can very well see the mistakes of Celdic being repeated again someday. It might be under a different flag and different leader, but at the end of the day the flames of combat care nothing for ideology or creed.

It's unfair. That's life, he's learned.

* * *

Behind them is the Grand Market, and though it's not the amazing spectacle it once was the sight of Celdic's citizens hustling and bustling just as much as they were before the attack is enough to take their breath away.

There's no anger or resentment; a lingering sadness, perhaps, at what and who had been lost, but even that was nothing in the face of Celdic's collective will banding together to show the world that in spite of everything, they would not bend and they would not break. They didn't have time for that, not when they could rebuild and survive instead.

It's inspiring. Alisa gives an encouraging smile, because that's life, too.

* * *

She points out the church, wondering out loud if Rosine might be there, and she raises an eyebrow when Rean's jaw clenches a little and he mutters that she probably isn't.

* * *

It was only a matter of time until they got to Celdic's inn, and they're content just to stand there for a moment, remembering simpler (and far more embarrassing) times where things like co-ed rooms were a sticking point for some.

Rean opens his mouth.

"Not a word, Schwarzer," the blonde 'warns' him, the playful twitch of her lips giving her away.

"I wasn't going to say anything," he protests innocently.

"Yeah. Sure you weren't." She scoffs and turns away in a remarkable imitation of how she used to be, and the difference between a year and a lifetime has never been smaller.

* * *

They end up playing another game of Blade II before Margot drops off their food, and when Rean wordlessly reaches into his pouch and drops fifty mira on the table, there's a quiet flash of pathos in Alisa's eyes when she matches the bet without hesitation.

It's a close match, closer than any of the ones they played on the train, and only a well-timed Mirror card allows Alisa to sneak away with a win.

"To the victor go the spoils," Alisa says, reaching for the pot before she stops, her hand still outstretched. "Unless you're up for double or nothing?"

Rean can't help the melancholy smirk when he looks at the coins and begins to reshuffle. "Let's be honest; we both know he would have wanted it that way."

"… Yeah. He would have."

(She wins again. Go big or go home, right Crow?)

* * *

When Rean's ARCUS goes off for the first time all trip, she's taken aback to see that he looks more resigned than concerned.

"So you don't think this is an emergency, or anything?"

He shakes his head when he flips it open. "No. They said they would contact me when I was due to get back soon, and I'm actually pretty impressed that they gave me this much time. I'm guessing Captain Claire had something to do with that."

Before Alisa can say anything to that, a familiar high pitched voiced positively booms from the earpiece, making the swordsman wince.

"Hiya, Rean! Hi to you too, Alisa! Long time no chat, huh?"

Crimson eyes widen in recognition before Alisa laughs in delight. "Hi, Millium! It really has been a while, hasn't it?"

"Mm-hmm!" and she can just picture the tiny agent's head furiously bouncing up and down. "It really has! I actually wanted to tag along and see everyone too, but apparently it wasn't a good idea."

Rean can't help a fond snicker. "Sorry. Maybe next time, Millium."

"It's cool! At least you guys got some alone time, right?"

"U-Uh, well – "

"… Please do not encourage her," a quieter voice says this time, sounding a little weary. "Ensuring she used her excess energy creatively and appropriately during your absence was… taxing."

"No it wasn't! Me and Lammy got up to all kinds of stuff, didn't we?"

"Okay," Rean interrupts, "that's the sort of sentence that's just vague enough to make me nervous. Did you two do anything that's going to make Claire fill out another expense report…?"

An indignant 'hmph', and they can hear the pout from Celdic. "Rude!"

Rean knows better than to leave it there. "Altina?"

"Negative, though there were times when I had my doubts." She pauses to let that sink in (and to let Millium rant a little more) before she continues. "Will you be returning on schedule?"

"… Yeah," Rean answers, his tone oddly flat. "I should be back by tomorrow night."

Alisa says nothing, and Altina makes a satisfied noise. "Good. Until then."

"H-Hey! I'm not done yet – see you soon Rean, and bye Alisa! It was kinda short, but it was awesome to talk to you again! Oh, did you – "

"We told everyone you said hi," the archer giggles weakly, the small girl's mood at least a little contagious in spite of everything. "They say hi back. Even Jusis and Machias."

She cheers, and in the background they can hear what passes for Airgetlam's speech chirping along. "They'd better have!"

There's a click. The rest is silence; uncertainty's native tongue.

* * *

She has to admit, the stark reminder of the end of their little journey kind of killed the mood for a bit, but it wasn't like it was coming unexpectedly. And besides, she refused to be reduced to a simpering wreck when the time came to part ways – they had done it once before without tears (not counting the defeat of Loa Luciferia) and she'd bet hard earned mira on that happening again.

Rean has his path and she has hers, just like everyone else does, but when all is said and done they're all just taking different roads to the same destination. Class VII is going to stand together again someday, united. She just knew it.

* * *

(… It still hurts, though).

* * *

"Hey," Alisa calls out. "Hold up for a second."

Rean stops the bike immediately and looks at his passenger, curious. "Anything wrong, Alisa?"

"No. It's just… we still have a little time, right?"

"A little, yeah. Why, did you have something in mind?"

She glances out toward the lake, eyes drifting toward the horizon. "Sort of, yeah. I just wanted to try something before we headed back to reality..."

* * *

"I take back every wisecrack I ever made about fishing."

"Haha, told you! It's actually really fun when you get used it, assuming you're not trying to land an Icy Croaker or something."

"… I don't know what that is."

"It's something you catch with a fishing rod that's not even remotely close to being a fish. They're actually pretty hostile; I mean, the first and only one I hooked tried to eat us. You were lucky you were resting up on the Courageous."

"I uh… I think I'll stick with the swordtails, thanks."

* * *

The platform at Roer isn't quite as crowded as it would have been for the evening peak, and there are enough scattered spots where a couple can get some semblance of privacy… even if that couple are Rean Schwarzer and Alisa Reinford.

"You'll be okay getting to Ymir?" Alisa says, and frowns when Rean bites back a laugh. "And just what is so funny?"

"Nothing at all. It's not like it'll be a hard trip back; by the time I get in, I'll have just enough time to unpack and sleep. I'll have enough time to visit with my family tomorrow, anyway – I'm not due back until the evening."

"I'm sorry I can't come with you," Alisa sighs regretfully, meaning every word; she rather liked Rean's family. "But I probably shouldn't take any more time off than I need, and I have the feeling work is starting to pile up again."

He makes a commiserating noise. "I can relate. Tomorrow should be okay, but the day after when I go back to the real world…"

She winces, feeling anxious. "You're not going back to Crossbell already, are you?"

"Not that I know of. In fact, I see a lot of independent learning in my near future."

"Why? Are they trying to cross-train you all of a sudden?"

He grins at her then, and it's bright enough to outshine the sun. "Not in the least, but if I show up to a brand new campus not knowing how to effectively plan a curriculum or what kind of exams to administer – well, those kids are going to be in for a rough year, aren't they?"

It takes Alisa a second or two to process what he's just said, but when it sinks in she feels herself smiling back just as happily, an excited giggle bursting forth. "You're taking it?!"

"… Yeah," Rean says, and she can feel the familiar confidence radiating from his very core. "How can I not? During this trip, I witnessed how hard Class VII's working to make their dreams come true. They're all striving so that when the time comes, they'll be ready to help Erebonia's tomorrow be better than its today. I can't do any less, and between the battlefield and a classroom, I… I have to choose where I can do good."

She tilts her head at the unusually careless phrasing. "Don't you mean do well?"

He shakes his head. "No."

Oh, come on. How do you even _think_ something like that with a straight face, much less say it?

Alisa flings her arms around Rean's neck in a fierce embrace that nearly knocks him over, propriety be damned. "H-Hey! What are you – "

"I'm proud of you," she says, her breath hot and steady against his collarbone, and when Rean raggedly inhales and buries his nose in her hair it takes all the willpower she has to keep herself together. "So, so proud."

He kisses her, and it's warm and it's perfect and it's _iloveyou_ in a language that has no words, and she can't help but giggle when he pulls away breathlessly to say it anyway.

"I love you."

She moves one hand and rests it over his heart, every beat beneath her palm an eternity. "I love you too."

He swallows hard but says nothing, and she's alarmed to see his eyes glistening a little because she knows that if he doesn't cut that out **right now** , her resolution's going out the window.

"Come on," she murmurs, trying to put a smile in her voice. "We're not gonna have one of _those_ goodbyes, are we? We did what we said we would; we had relaxed, had fun, and now we're ready to stare down whatever the world throws at us and win. And hey; we know we can get away with it, so there's nothing stopping us from doing this again someday!"

He stands absolutely still at that, with Alisa wondering if she's said something wrong because the look on his face is really intense now and oh, he's taking her hand -

"… Someday," he promises her, bowing his head to brush his lips across her left ring finger, making her breath catch and lip quiver and _damn you,_ Rean Schwarzer.

Alisa doesn't even know she's crying until a thumb curves up to brush her tears away, and he doesn't resist when she pulls him down for another kiss, her fingers tangling in his hair.

Someday.

It's a wonderful word.

* * *

On her way back to the Reinford building, Alisa stops for a second along one of the many walkways in Roer and stares up at the fading line on the horizon with bright, wondrous eyes. There's not a cloud in sight; only clear sky as far as the eye can see.

She smiles and starts walking again, her footsteps echoing a familiar trail towards home, and tomorrow's going to be a beautiful day.

* * *

AN: The title's taken from Song of the Open Road, by Walt Whitman – "These are the days that must happen to you". I felt it fitting.

I'm not entirely sure if it's possible to cover the distance that Rean and Alisa did on the orbal bike. I am sure, however, that's probably the least of my worries considering the sheer amount of CSIII story info that dropped while I was planning/writing this. I tried to work in as many of the elements as I could – Rean as a teacher was a godsend - and I'm perversely curious to find out how far off-canon this will turn out to be in spite of my attempts to be as vague as possible!

And, as always, because this is me…

* * *

 **OMAKE**

A tender brush across his forehead awakens him from his fitful nap in Mater Park, and his first instinct is to assume he's dreaming when he opens his eyes and sees sapphire gazing back.

"… Hello."

"Hi. Go back to sleep, Machias."

"Hm. You'd be amazed at how little I feel inclined to do just that."

Still, Machias makes no effort to move from his spot on her lap, nor does he protest when she simply hums in reply and lets her fingertips wander upwards to wayward strands that have fallen over his eyes. "Fair enough, I suppose. I like your hair."

That manages to coax a smile out of him, quiet as it is. "Thank you. You… uh, have excellent taste in hats."

She giggles, and it's one of the many things he's missed.

"Not that I'm unhappy to see you, but I should probably ask; what are you doing here?"

"… Would you believe I was just in the neighborhood?"

He scoffs, letting his eyes drift shut again.

"Hmph. Don't tell me, then."

A patient sigh. "I'd rather explain when you're fully awake and have your glasses on, you know. It's hard to tell a story when the other person can't see you."

"That wouldn't matter," and there are no falsehoods in his words because he truly _doesn't_ have to see her.

She has bright eyes and a kind smile, with a cascade of chestnut hair that needs to be braided lest it tangles. Her laugh makes her breathless before long, she prefers prose over poetry, milk or sugar in tea is absolutely out of the question, nervousness makes her fidget with her hands, and the part of his heart where she resides will be forever seventeen.

He knows these things. They're inscribed in his bones.

"I… I can't stay long," she tells him, a catch in her voice, and he's not surprised in the least.

"I had a feeling. You know, there's a bookstore I think you'll enjoy. We should go later," Machias says, because _'this is_ _enough'_ is just too trite and cliché an admission right now.

The gunman frowns when she starts giggling hysterically, struggling mightily to muffle the sound. "And just what was so amusing about that?"

She doesn't reply at first, but the laughter quiets down soon after. "Nothing, really."

His brow scrunches a little but he can't bring himself to be truly annoyed, and when he raises one hand to ghost across her cheek, she turns her head and presses a kiss against his palm.

Machias opens his eyes again, sitting up so he can draw her close. She takes a long, shuddering breath and rests her head against his chest, and it's like an oasis in a desert, the calm in the storm.

Weary no more, he revels both in her and the world that is only them.

"I've missed you, Emma."


	2. Come, and take choice

**Come, and take choice**

Okay, so like the second chapter of All Good Things, this was supposed to be another OMAKE to start with, nice and short; I just couldn't stop typing, and the result was this. No Rean/Alisa in this one, so if you came here for more of that... uh, sorry!

Fair warning; there are some real world literary references and quotes below (On the Road, The Little Prince, Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda), so if they take you out of the story then I apologize. Suffice to say, I don't own any of them; they all belong to their respective estates. The title's taken from Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus ("Come, and take choice of all my library").

... What can I say? Writing these two in a bookstore got me in a literary mood.

* * *

It's a little hard not to be impressed when she walks into the store and takes it in for the first time. There are volume-lined shelves are far as the eye can see, with what seems like equally as many clerks eager and willing to assist the customers that flow in and out, like a river around a stone.

Celine, being Celine, sees things somewhat differently.

"Too many cooks in the kitchen," the familiar quips quietly, trying to look as unobtrusive as possible by Emma's feet, and the brunette isn't sure who's more surprised when instead of taking offense Machias chuckles dryly and shakes his head, conceding the point.

"Numerous as they may be, having such a large staff does make sense. This is Heimdallr's largest bookstore, and the amount of traffic that it gets during busy days is staggering."

"I can only imagine," Emma murmurs, gaze darting from shelf to shelf. "I don't even know where to start!"

It might be her imagination, but she swears he smirks a little before he answers. "There's a fair bit to see. You should browse around for a little while and get an idea of what they carry."

Emma mock frowns at that, reaching out. "I hope you meant 'we', Machias. Don't tell me you're getting bored of my company already?"

"… That's not what I meant and you know it," he grumbles, and she doesn't bother hiding her victorious grin when he slips his hand into hers and squeezes.

The spaces between their fingers fit just like she remembers, and the thought isn't nearly as bittersweet as it once was.

* * *

She's combed through multiple shelves, flipped through multiple volumes, and finally come to the conclusion that this store is everything the one in Trista wants to be when it grows up.

There's something on virtually every topic under the sun, with fair prices and a solid back stock of current releases, and Emma has a feeling that she could spend hours here and never get bored… which is why she finds the slight expression of disinterest Machias carries a little suspicious.

"Okay, out with it," Emma tells him, sidling up to sneak a peek at the novel he's reading ( _I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another until I drop. This is the night, what it does to you)._

He looks back at her, a portrait of innocence that straddles the surprisingly fine line between theater and life, and she wants to engrave the image into her memory – facetious as it may be – because it's something she's never seen before and she doubts he'd ever have the stomach to reproduce it.

"Out with what?"

"Something tells me that amazing as this store is, this isn't all you had in mind," Emma answers, and she finds the prospect excites her, because this place was fantastic enough; what more was missing?

"It is amazing," Machias agrees, setting the book back on the shelf with a reverence that Emma both recognizes and shares. "It's well run and organized, and there's no better place to purchase contemporary work."

She hears what isn't being said immediately, and her interest is piqued further. So is Celine's, for that matter.

"So, this was just so she had grounds to compare when you took her to the real place, huh?" Celine whispers, darting her eyes to make sure no one's within earshot. "Smooth. I'm kinda impressed, actually. Didn't think you had it in you."

He flicks a glance at the familiar, and rolls his eyes when she sticks out her tongue. "A compliment from a talking cat is still a compliment, I suppose."

"Hehe. Well, I think we've been kept in suspense long enough; shall we?"

Machias holds out his hand and smiles; he needs to do it more often, because he looks so much younger when he does.

* * *

When the gunman opens the creaky door and Emma follows him into the entrance way, the witch finds herself having to squint as her eyes adjust to the darker interior; the previous store had been bright and spacious, whereas this one was… not.

She hears Celine make an impressed noise, and when her vision's adjusted she takes her first look around and oh my word _-_

Emma faintly hears the sound of the – owner? – greeting Machias affably, along with the green haired man returning the favor in kind, but all that is secondary to the books that fill the small space to bursting, the shelves nearly overwhelmed with paperbacks and hardcovers, and more than that; there are stacks on the ground, on random chairs that ceased to be used as such long ago, and there were boxes stuffed with parchment and notebooks next to them and it's absolutely _perfect._

"According to dad," Machias tells her quietly, respect tingeing every syllable, "this store was where a generation of those discontent with the way things were gathered in peace, so that they could exchange information, ideas – and of course, a tale or two."

She believes him. There's a palpable presence about this place, almost like an aura, which the larger establishment in Heimdallr simply lacked, and she imagines that everything is here; the stories of the joyful, the cautions of the cynic, the laments of the dispossessed and disenfranchised, the hymns of the holy and the cries of the broken.

It's overwhelming in the best way possible, as history always is, and Emma's mind can't help but envision those who wandered this floor years ago; she's curious as to what they sought in their writing (change, perhaps) and what they found in the end (a state of grace, Aidios willing).

"Most of said tales are still around, mind you," the man behind the counter cracks, waving his hand at nothing in particular. "Once upon a time, the prose was at the front, with poetry going along the sides and the back reserved for non-fiction and academia, but now… well, you have eyes."

Emma nods before she turns to Machias, laughing a little. "Well, this place does have one thing in common with the last one; I still have no idea where to begin."

He crosses his arms, considering. "Fiction, first?"

She smiles. "Lovely."

* * *

"I'm surprised you like this place so much," and Machias looks down from his book to see Celine idly pawing at his pant cuff, looking amused. "I mean, you're normally so stuffy about things being neat that I'd have figured a war zone like this would give you a heart attack."

The gunman scoffs before adjusting his glasses. "I'd hardly call having appropriate standards for organization being 'stuffy over things being neat'."

Unsurprisingly, Celine scoffs right back. "Six of one, half dozen of the other as far as I'm concerned."

"Duly noted," Machias mutters, before sighing. "It's probably because it's always been like this, I think. This was how it was normally; if anything, the piles just got bigger as I grew up. It's the only place I can think of where a state of chaos is more suitable than order."

The feline looks around and nods sagely, much to his surprise. "Actually, you're kinda right. There are so many books here that I can't imagine them fitting all on normal shelves; I guess this works."

The day had come where he and the familiar had agreed on something. Would wonders never cease?

It must show on his face somehow, because the cat immediately flicks her tail dismissively at him. "Don't get too used to it or anything. Even broken clocks are right twice a day."

Machias can't resist rolling his eyes. "Ah, there's the Celine I know and… know."

Celine smirks a little before gesturing to the nearby kneeling brunette, looking for all the world like she was lost in a wonderland. "We should probably go and check on Emma and make sure that we won't need to drag her out of here when the time comes. C'mon, loverboy."

He really, _really_ wants to say something to that, but before he can find his bearings the familiar's already started sauntering off towards Emma, and all Machias can do is follow, trying to remain dignified in defeat.

(It's not as if she's wrong, anyhow).

* * *

"Find something that caught your interest, I take it?"

Emma looks up at Machias and positively beams, the witch holding a slim tome that couldn't have been more than a hundred pages; a light read at most, but sometimes those were the best kinds.

"One of many things, actually," she answers, all too aware of the pile of books by her feet and equally aware that it's going to be much bigger before she's done. "Between the folklore collections, the short story anthologies and the novels, I'm going to have bedtime reading until I'm old and gray! Carrying everything back home might be a bit of an issue, though."

Machias shrugs philosophically. "A small price to pay." He kneels next to her and tries to get a look at the spine of what's she's currently holding, but his eyes can't quite get a hold of the faded font in the dim light. "What's got your attention there?"

"Oh, this?"

She looks down and can't resist the nostalgic smile that crosses her face, the words within the yellowed pages bringing her back to simpler times; times before Awakeners and Knights, times when Vita was still her precious older sister and she knew nothing of duty or deceit.

"It's one of my favorites from when I was a child. My grandmother used to read it to me until I was old enough to read it myself – truth be told, I've heard it so many times I think I still have it committed to memory!"

He quietly chuckles, the sound warm and resonant. "That's quite the endorsement. What's your favorite part?"

She doesn't answer for a few moments, her eyes shut in concentration, before –

" _Farewell."_

He blinks.

" _Farewell, said the fox. Here is my secret,"_ Emma recites quietly, and unbeknownst to her Machias freezes in comprehension, his gaze widening behind delicate lenses. " _It is very simple: one sees clearly only with the heart. What is essential – "_

" _– is invisible to the eye."_

Her next words die a little death on her lips.

" _What is essential is invisible to the eye,_ " he repeats, sounding as gentle as she's ever heard him, and Emma's reminded that they are forever responsible for what they have tamed.

Unbidden, the gunman continues. "Sis used to read that to me too, believe it or not. Well, to be more specific, I think my parents read it to her first when she was younger, and then she kept the tradition alive afterward. She always asked me why I insisted on that story every time, and I would tell her that it was because she did such a good job at telling it, but if I was being honest… I think it was because it was the closest that I would ever get to hearing a story from my mother."

He's babbling, she realizes with something that comes remarkably close to giddiness. He's babbling about himself and his family and Emma hopes against hope that he'll keep talking and never stop, because she loves the idea of Machias with so much to share that he almost trips over his words, she loves the idea that he's no longer closed off and unwilling to open up, and she loves –

Well, she loves _him_ , really.

When Machias sees her staring wordlessly, however, his brain finally catches up with his mouth and clamps it shut mid-sentence, his face turning a dull shade of red that came surprisingly close to matching the tie he was wearing.

"I-I mean," he begins, and Emma expects a barrage of denial and backpedaling; she's seen this pattern before.

Instead, he swallows hard and steels himself, matching Emma's warm gaze with one of his own, and she watches and rejoices as the once familiar doubt fades into nothing before he smiles at her, shaky and sheepish but not at all afraid.

"… It's one of my favorites too," Machias admits in a whisper, his head bowed.

She sets the book down, slipping forward to close the distance, and the light touch of her lips warms him down to his very soul; benediction of the most sacred kind.

* * *

"Shameless," Celine mumbles under her breath, hiding behind a shelf while pretending to ignore the proceedings. "But then again, I guess romance is where you find it."

* * *

They don't stay in the poetry section for long; while Machias has a certain appreciation for the art form, as does she, the brunette is clearly aching to go back to the prose and see if there was anything she missed the first time around (though that doesn't stop her from picking up a decades old sonnet compilation that doubled as a satirical critique of Heimdallr's political structure).

He tells her that he'll meet her there, and when Emma speeds off in a blur followed by a visibly amused Celine, he turns and scans the crowded shelves on a whim, looking, looking, looking…

Ah.

* * *

It's no real surprise that neither one of them wants to go through the academic texts; Machias has had his fill of journals and reference materials from class, and Emma's far too distracted by her new acquisitions to even think about adding more.

Instead, they clear off two chairs and spend the rest of the afternoon reading, and Celine curls up into a ball between them, more than content to lie there and nap.

"Wake me when it's time to go," the familiar tells them with a yawn, and Emma reaches down to scratch her ears absentmindedly in reply. It surprises her a little (maybe a lot, honestly) when the gunman follows suit, though judging from the content purr he's doing a rather good job at it.

It's a cute sight, and the giggle that escapes her is not missed by Machias.

"Not a word," he mutters, blushing again as he returns to his book, though he still squeezes back when her hand seeks his.

* * *

As they leave the store, Emma turns to call a jovial farewell to the owner, and the older man cheerfully responds in kind.

Her attention is only off him for a few moments, but it's all he needs. A fold of a page, the flick of a wrist, and the book is in her bag with no one being the wiser.

* * *

The platform at Heimdallr is almost deserted; most people try to avoid taking the overnight trains in the middle of the workweek if they can help it, and today is no exception.

Emma's thankful for the small blessing. While she's positive this parting isn't going to be devastating, it's not exactly going to be easy, either.

"I-I'm sorry that we can't stay for – "

"Don't be," Machias tells her, shaking his head. "You have your own matters to concern yourself with, just like I do. The fact you were here at all was…"

He doesn't bother finishing, but the brunette understands well enough.

"… I'm glad you liked the store. Well, both of them actually, but the second one was more of a priority," he continues in a rush, and Emma feels her lips quirk up in a playful grin. Of course she had liked it. How could she not?

"Hehe. I'm just as glad you took me there, you know." She pauses for a moment, one hand toying with her sleeve while her gaze drops to her feet before turning back upward. "Thank you," Emma says as solemnly as she can, and it feels obscenely inadequate because two words can't possibly articulate how she feels right now.

"… You're welcome?" Machias replies back, a little amused and bewildered all at once, the weight of her reaction taking him off guard. "It's an excellent establishment to be sure, but I'm not convinced it warrants – "

"I enjoyed it, you know. Seeing a place that helped you grow into who you are today, I mean," Emma confesses, her cheeks turning pink, and they only darken further when his green eyes widen. "Along with hearing the stories, of course."

 _"I'm sure I would have liked your sister. Your mother too,"_ she thinks but doesn't say, because some conversations are best left for the future, away from train platforms and goodbyes, and without the pauses in between words filled with a hundred other things left unspoken between them.

"Stories are good," the gunman agrees, and Emma knows in her heart that the smile he wears belongs only to her. "Maybe I can hear some of yours, next time."

Emma smiles back. "The Hexen have a long and complex history – I'm sure I'll be able to come up with something."

Celine snickers. "And even if she can't, I've got a few good ones."

The witch closes her eyes in exasperation, and this time she's blushing out of embarrassment. "Thank you for that, Celine."

"Anytime," the familiar quips, rising to her feet and pawing off in the opposite direction.

"Where are you – "

"Letting you two say goodbye properly. Take care of yourself, understand?" Celine orders, the sincerity shining through in spite of the brusqueness, and Machias can only chuckle and nod.

"She can be surprisingly considerate at times, can't she?"

Emma's expression softens. "Absolutely."

Machias takes a deep breath, slow and steady. "You'll be okay heading back?"

"We will," she assures him, letting her hand rest on his forearm. "It'll certainly be a long trip, but that's something we've gotten used to already."

The green haired man raises an eyebrow, teasing. "I can't imagine what you would do to pass the time."

"Oh, I don't know. I'm sure I'll figure out something," she answers, her sapphire eyes gleaming as she looks toward her overstuffed bag.

He laughs when he slips his arms around her waist to draw her in, and she's a little too preoccupied after that to think about anything else.

* * *

A melancholy Emma is cataloguing all her purchases as the train rolls on, debating in her head how she's going to make room for them when she gets back when she notices a slim hardcover that doesn't look at all familiar.

"Hmm?"

Celine sleepily looks up from the seat next to her, staring curiously at it before she closes her eyes. "Which one is that again?"

"I… don't know. I can't recall buying this one – or even flipping through it, for that matter." She turns it in her hands, the name barely legible on the spine; she supposed that if you'd known who you were looking for it might have been enough, but for someone unfamiliar with Heimdallr's more obscure authors it may as well have been in a foreign language.

Upon closer inspection, she sees that one of the pages has the corner folded in a crude bookmark, and she turns to it and begins to read.

Celine's alarmed when she awakens minutes later to Emma trying not to cry and failing miserably, but when she urgently asks the brunette if she's okay, the smile she receives through Emma's tears tells the familiar that yes, she's never been more okay in her life, and when the cat runs her gaze over the moisture stained pages at the stanzas left exposed by her hands -

 _"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,_  
 _I love you simply, without problems or pride:_  
 _I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving_

 _but this, in which there is no I or you,_  
 _so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,_  
 _so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close."_

* * *

That night, he dreams of her and she dreams of him. All is right with the world.


End file.
